Lupus, Canis and Gemini
by Sham Harga
Summary: Harry is staying with Remus when an unexpected arrival sparks a trip down memory lane. Mostly MWPP era, focusing on Sirius and Remus. Not slash
1. A Beginning

For anyone who liked my OotP script and had decided to gamble on this story I thank you for giving it a go. It's a very different style, but to see how well I can handle more sensetive storylines. The story will amble between teen angst, supense, supernatural ad basicaly ho everywhere. Let's hope I'm up to it. The dedicatio of this story is to Rachael, as this is done as a long present to my lovely sister as it concerns her favourite characters and contains some plot points to please her. This plot may get confusing and convoluted, but is mainly concerned with the wonderful Sirius and Remus and what events have affected their past and will change their future. Sadly, NOT SLASH. I'm working my way up to that. Anyway, may as well let this get underway, there is very little of the overall plot in this first chapter, but is just to set the scene, which is why there is a lot of Harry.

DISCLAIMER: Do I look like JK Rowling? What? You can't see me? Well, all characters in this chapter are not mine. What? You CAN see me? What hidden cameras? Pervert.

**Chapter One: Floodgates.**

The wind howled outside, circling the fragile cottage with anguished wails and rattling the door on its rusty hinges. The rain was falling in thick drops beating against the small panes. The rhythmic pounding was soothing; the echoing of the rain in his heartbeat was almost hypnotic. Harry snuggled deeper into the tatty but comfortable armchair and stared into the blazing fire, as the yellow tongues licked and teased each other. As the wind picked up to stage another onslaught on the frail but resilient walls Harry smiled and mumbled  
"I'll huff and I'll puff..."  
  
"And I'll blow your house down" finished the big bad wolf, handing Harry a mug of steaming tea.  
"Don't worry Harry" assured Lupin, neither big nor bad, but pale and wearied so soon after full moon. "It may not be much, but it's sturdy enough to withstand the worst kind of weather."  
  
As Lupin smiled sheepishly Harry's gaze wandered the room. While Harry had already done this countless times, he knew he could do it many times more; Lupin's small lounge was a feast for the eyes. While the wallpaper was faded and dull, and the floor simple, inexpensive wood, everything was cheerfully clean and in pristine order. Each piece of furniture was from startlingly different time periods and style so that even the people in the room felt like items in a huge trinket shop. Harry snuggled deeper into the threadbare armchair and sipped his tea. While Aunt Petunia couldn't stand tea unless it was so thick with sugar the spoon could stand upright, Harry was used to no frills treatment, and did not mind in the slightest Lupin's sincere apologies at the lack of sugar in the house. Lupin seemed to feel very guilt at the lack of luxuries in his home, but it was Harry's conscience that remonstrated him for accepting Lupin's invitation when he could barely afford to keep himself, never mind Harry. Harry knew he had managed to find a job in a Muggle library, but this barely covered the expenses and upon Harry's arrival Lupin had had to take a break in order to guard Harry, and despite Lupin's cheerful hospitality Harry still felt more a burden than a guest.  
  
A nasty voice lurking in the recesses of his head taunted Harry; he knew he was an inconvenience for his old mentor, but he, selfishly, would not willingly remove himself. Harry thought back to the long hard weeks at the Dursley's. While his 'family' seemed to have taken heed of the warnings from his friends, and outright threat from Moody, about mistreatment of Harry, they obeyed by simply ignoring him. Harry was glad of this, but such loneliness gave him too much time to brood. Ignoring warnings for his own safety he had taking to walking alone for entire days, thinking about everything and nothing in one confusing shape. Harry felt as though he was trying to fit a square thought into a round hole, and maybe if he could unravel his entangled thoughts into one fluid line everything would make much more sense. It was on these walks he had found his retreat. It was just a pond behind a children's park, unused other than as a graveyard for crumpled cans and takeaway boxes. Harry could wedge himself in between the twisted branches and sit for hours. His thoughts would transport him away from the shouts of children or the scent of forbidden cigarettes coming from the park behind him and he would rest in his misery. The elements had no effect on Harry, his desolation taking physical form and wrapping him in an impenetrable blanket of gloom. Here Harry his away from the world. He detached himself from an unhappy pas, an uncertain present and a hopeless future. He made no mention of this in his twice-weekly owls, having no desire to share his feelings with anyone else who couldn't possibly understand and instead provided short assurances of his health and safety.  
  
It came as a great surprise then when he received a letter from Dumbledore offering Harry the opportunity to go and stay with his ex-professor for the final two weeks of August before the new school term, Harry noting that these were the weeks following full moon. To his own surprise Harry was unsure whether to accept, having withdrawn into himself he could not imagine coming out of his mental refuge to have contact with another human being. While last year all he wanted was company Harry was now uncertain how he would cope with the presence of someone who was so great a reminder of ... Harry checked himself. In the two days he had been at Lupin's neither of the two had made mention of ... him. Harry could not bring himself to even think his name, as it would make the loss all too real. A name would bring forth a face and a shape of his grief. The abstract depression with which Harry was filled was easier to cope with than the sharp stab of specific sorrow.  
  
Harry had been even more surprised by the very fact the offer was made. After all, hadn't Dumbledore told him his aunt's house was the one place he was safe. Although the enormous amount of spells placed on Lupin's small cottage by Lupin and Dumbledore himself had not escaped Harry's notice, Dumbledore's words still echoed in Harry's head,  
'While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood  
dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort.' Harry felt a further pang of guilt as he remembered how little time he had actually spent in this refuge and wondered if Dumbledore had discovered this. An unexpected thought occurred to Harry, that perhaps his Aunt Petunia had something to do with his removal. He had often been shocked to find her staring at his face with an expression nearing pity lightening his aunt's stern and pointed face. Perhaps Harry was not the only one with contact to the wizarding world. Much as his aunt detested his background, Harry was amazed to find his aunt, though nor deigning to speak to him more than necessary, also not frowning at him with the same revulsion as usual. Just as this change was apparent to him, it could surely not have escaped his aunt's notice the dramatic alteration in Harry.  
  
Harry was right. His aunt had observed how Harry's own aversion to his relatives had been replaced by a cold indifference. Fear of the freaks intervention had prevented herself and her husband from attempting to control 'the boy's' life, and as such he seemed to have taken it upon himself to remain as far from human contact as possible. When she did see her nephew he barely spoke or ate, in fact he showed, to her, little signs of actually living at all. While Petunia had little personal connection with her nephew, she had not so little compassion as to ignore someone in such an obvious downward spiral of self-destruction. And while Petunia was loathe to create any sort of personal connection with the freaks, she was not totally ignorant of her sister's practices, and was well aware of how to use an owl, and after all, the boy seemed as disinterested in his as he did anything else.  
  
It was the eyes that scared her the most. Those green orbs, so reminiscent of his scoundrel father had lost all of their fiery defiance that she was so used to. Their passion was gone, and replaced with ... nothing. They seemed extinguished, dead. Behind his pupils was a great sucking void of depression, and this scared Petunia. But that old crackpot would know what to do.  
  
The old crackpot was very disturbed by Petunia's letter. Of course he hadn't expected Harry to be coping well, but his apparent lack of emotion was worrying. What was the use of protecting Harry externally, if he was crumbling internally? Perhaps the most risky road would be better for Harry. And perhaps it would help another, another who was distressingly withdrawn. He rarely expressed his feelings when he was younger, and seemed in no danger of starting now. But, Dumbledore thought, the two that have lost everything could find something in each other.  
  
However, so far neither Harry nor Remus had broken the silence stalemate. Conversation was trivial, as both feared any deeper conversation could scratch the surface of buried thoughts and send forth a torrent of unwanted confession. In the two days Harry had been staying with Lupin the routine had been simple. Simple breakfast, practice of defence (which to both teacher and pupil's delight Harry was advancing in spectacularly), simple lunch, forcing Harry to get on with delayed homework, simple dinner and simple evening relaxation, allowing the depleted energy of the lycanthrope to restore itself. Harry had to admit he was happier here than the Dursley's, having cracked his first contented smile all summer, but while he was still holding himself back, the pressure of repressing his memories was overwhelming.  
  
Lupin's lounge did nothing to ease the oppression of memory. The nostalgia was tangible. Pictures of friends of all shapes, sizes and species smiling and waving lined every surface not dominated by magical gewgaws. An array of talismans cluttered the mantelpiece, centred around a dreamcatcher, the filigree metal twisted in the shape of a hand. In the palm was a ruby coloured stone, containing writhing smoke that was constantly in motion. Such expensive objects seemed greatly out of place in the otherwise simple cottage, but Harry knew that their monetary value could not even compare to the lifetime's worth of memories contained in them. Most intriguing was the towering Grandfather clock that stood in the corner. Its smooth shining case was of beautifully carved mahogany and the glow from the fire reflected off the glass face in brilliant facets. Meandering up the dark wood were golden figures that glowed in the firelight as though they were made of liquid sunlight, the rippling light giving them the illusion of movement. Almost hypnotised, Harry rose from his chair to inspect the clock more closely. Now he could see that there was not one, but three faces, arranged in a triangle, only one of which recorded the time, at least in the traditional sense. Forming the top tip of the triangle, the bronze hands stretched to the roman numerals. Shaped like shooting stars the hands echoed the celestial theme that governed the face, with shimmering planets of gold and bronze slowly orbiting all three faces. Harry noted the lack of silver and realised that the donor must have known of the lycanthrope's condition, but compensated by filing the available space with gold, bronzes and platinum. There was a fine line between tacky and breathtakingly beautiful, but the clock managed to stay on the right side, despite its decoration. To the bottom left of the actual clock was a single circle, brilliant in platinum. While it was not solid, it still seemed to be a sphere, but insubstantial as shadows flitted across it. Harry studied it quizzically, as he could find no use for this shimmering orb, other than its simple but delicate beauty.  
  
"It's the moon", supplied Lupin from behind him. Harry jumped, the silent movements of the man startling him.  
"Enchanted to show it's phases. Just in case I forgot." He continued, a wry smile teasing across his lips.  
  
More careful scrutiny revealed that the orb was less than whole, shorn of silvery wrapping on one side, showing the waning profile of the moon. This confirmed Harry's belief that the giver knew Lupin very well. Harry's heart skipped as he wondered which of Lupin's close friends could have given him the beautiful piece, which of his old friends that Harry knew.  
  
"Have you seen this?" Asked Lupin, gesturing to the final part. Harry recognised the style immediately. Similar to a normal clock face but without the numbers, Harry was put in mind of Mrs Weasley's kitchen clock. However, while hers had different hands for each family member, Lupin's clock merely had the one hand, this, Harry had to smile, in the shape of a leaping wolf. The inscriptions in gold around the clock face were also different. Overall, they had a light teasing tone; "Not eating enough", "What about sleep?" and, to Harry's dismay the golden hand was resting firmly on "Worrying too much". Many of these reprimands were seen, but two phrases were almost obscured by dust. Squinting closer Harry chuckled at the line "Doing things you ought'nt", and his heart positively leapt to make new lodgings in his throat as he deciphered the line, sadly almost totally illegible through disuse, "Marauding".  
  
Lupin saw the reaction from the boy he always thought of as a godson and smiled sadly.  
"It was from Sirius. A present for my 18th birthday." He explained,  
"Sirius", breathed Harry, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Of course," replied Lupin, his voice beginning to crack under the weight of precious memory, "Surely you recognise the theme?"  
  
Harry tore his eyes from the word Marauding, to which so much overwhelming connotation was attached and followed Lupin's eyeline. Lupin was staring at the characters adorning the sides of the clock, which Harry now saw were very familiar. A hot red ball of anger was ignited as he saw a rat scaling the distance from the top to the faces display, but this was quickly quelled by the intense wave of raw emotion that rolled over his heart as he recognised wolf, dog and stag. It welled up from his stomach, grasped his heart roughly and overflowed from his eyes, forming salty rivulets streaking his face. He gasped with the relief of pressure that had been building up inside his body, and as the dam broke, felt the unrelenting tears wash away the tension in his quaking frame, supported now by the strong arm of Remus. The older man's arm remained strong and comforting as the tears welled up in his own eyes, and Harry grasped the front of his worn jumper, pouring out his emotion into his chest. As the time stretched out as they remained in the same position, holding each other as the sound of wracking sobs echoed in the small room. No words were exchanged. None needed to be.  
  
It was later that Harry was to be found face down on the rug, his nose buried deep in a pile of photo albums. Now the storm had finally broken, Harry felt calmer winds blowing inside him, and could view pictures of his family (and in this he was happy to include Sirius and Remus) with some pleasure and thrill of excitement as well as sorrow. He was slowly making his way through Lupin's huge photo albums. It seemed, as with the ornaments crowding the small cottage, that Lupin never threw anything away. As he absorbed the detail of every page Harry searched out familiar faces or locations, and in doing so came across a photograph he had seen many times before. Smiling as he looked at his parent's wedding day he traced the faces of his parents with his finger and smiled as Sirius' lost grin presented itself for all to admire. But, unusually, this smile was not directed at Harry. He stopped short. There was something very unusual in the picture, two new figures he could not place or recall.  
  
"Professor?" called Harry to the kitchen, where Lupin emerged carrying fresh cups of tea.  
"Harry? I've asked you repeatedly" admonished the older man, his prematurely lined face crinkling at the eyes as he smiled.  
"Sorry", corrected Harry, enjoying the familiarity of the name, "Remus, who are these in the picture? I don't remember seeing them before."  
  
Harry pointed to the mystery figures that seemed to have materialized in the picture. Identical females, they were both grinning wildly, and one was leaping up and down and waving frantically with both arms gyrating above her head. Harry laughed as he stared at the comical figures that had taken places between the seemingly amused Sirius and Remus.  
  
Harry felt Remus peer over his shoulder to look at the photograph, and then leapt in alarm as the two cups of tea fell from Remus' hands and smashed on the floor. As the tea soaked the carpet, it seemed to be draining the colour from Remus' face.  
  
"Remus? Remus? What's wrong?" asked Harry urgently, startled to say the least.  
  
"Oh Merlin", was all he received in reply.

Ooooh. Quite pleased with this so far. Hope you are, too. If you are or aren't please don't hesitate to tell me what particular parts you liked or didn't. Please don't be put off by female original characters, I've tried to make them as un-Mary Sue like as possible. They are, however, necessary to the plot I'm trying to achieve. Please R&R. Sham.


	2. Desperation

**_Chapter Two: Desperation_**

Bare feet pounded over the slick, muddy ground. The flying limbs were coated in threads of blood where the whiplash of the undergrowth had stung them. Hands, coloured brown from the mud, were outstretched, fumbling blindly with the tree branches blocking a determined path. One loose stone, and the body fell to the ground with a heavy thud. A crack and sharp explosion of pain indicated a breakage and through the frozen numbness of the frail, near naked body, throbbing ribbons of pain ran the course of its arm. The manic laugh that greeted this seemed eerie in the ferocity of the elements as the sound was lifted then drowned by the howls of the wind. Giggling, the figure squatted amongst the leafy debris and stroked the offending hand. The pain was beautiful, as the impulses flooded to the brain each neurone was exploded with a sense of exquisite bliss. The chuckles subsided to pants, as the figure took aching breaths. After what must have been five hours of running with no food or drink but the sweet raindrops, energy reserves were almost failing. A deep breath, head tilted to allow the pure drops to caress its face, and drank the fresh air, tinted with the smell of woodland and fresh rain. These delights stimulated every sense in the body, and with another laugh the figure rose, and sprinted off again in a lolloping run. Re-awakened senses, filled with new, delightful nourishment said the house was close. So close as to be touched already, tasted, smelt. Familiar trees and landmarks provided comfort and encouragement, and as the figure clambered a broken log it let out an excited yell. There.


	3. Searching

Disclaimer: Two Ocs and own plot, but all other places and people belong to the esteemed JK Rowling.  
  
Summary: Can be found in the summary. Can't be bothered writing it again.  
  
A/N Sorry about the length of the previous chapter, I know it was short but I wanted to get something out to you. If you've read the OotP script you will know that I've been away, lucky me, so I couldn't update. Anyway, I'm home for two weeks now, with nothing more pressing to do than let my imagination run wild. And I'll need that time because as I figure moreand more plot points for this story I have figured it's gonna be VERY long. My fingers ache already.  
  
Just a few quick thankyous.  
  
Autumn Snow – Love your name. I hope the clock thing was OK to understand, I read it through and even I got confused. But I want one of my own.  
  
Chantal J – Update soon? OK – sorry that didn't happen, but we all gotta go lie in the surf sometimes. Actually, Remus could probably do with some of that. And I'm still recovering from Euro 2004 ... sob.  
  
Amaya – teehee – I'm sorry, there's still no definite answers yet, but after this the story proper begins so we'll find out about all these strangers...  
  
Keran – Thanks for your review and your E-mail, many apologies for it being so late, but I selfishly went to the Canary Islands. And dare I mention I'll be off the Paris in a few weeks, sorry! ;-) Be proud, your E-mail got me to post this as soon as possible though – dedicate this to yourself.  
  
Ferrit – Haha – thankyou, your reviews always make me smile. Sadly, my OotP script update is a bit, no a lot shoddy, so apologies here and now.  
  
Anyway, on with the show. And I don't like the title. But there you go.  
  
Chapter Three: Searching  
  
Harry gazed in astonishment as Lupin snatched the album from his hands. His eyes were wide and fixed on the photograph as one of his slender fingers stroked the page. Wrenching his eyes from the image he bored into Harry's eyes.  
  
'You have a picture like this, don't you Harry?'  
  
His manner was urgent enough to stem Harry's curiosity of how he knew and he simply replied 'yes'.  
  
'You have never seen these two before?' Lupin flipped the album and showed Harry the photograph once more, pointing to the excited figures with shaking finger.  
  
'No, never' Harry replied. 'Why? What's going on?'  
  
A quick, muttered 'I'm not sure' was all Harry received as an answer, and he saw not to press further as Lupin busied himself frantically tearing through albums and boxes. His hands were a blur as picture after picture was discarded, his eyes desperately scouring the photographs for the fair haired girls, and he did not go unrewarded. Instance after instance one of both was seen, but to Harry's surprise this did not seem to cheer his friend, but work his frenzy up further.  
  
Harry was just about to question Lupin in an attempt to pry him from his passionate hunt when a noise outside stopped them both dead. Lupin's eyes were quick and alert and his ears visibly pricked as they listened for the noise again. He was not disappointed. Above the sound of the continuing storm was the sound of movement. The snapping of branches and beating of leaves had too much defined purpose to be the assault of wind. Lupin stood and drew Harry close to him as his ears rung with the threat of the prowling menace. As Harry saw Lupin reach for his wand he was aware of his own hand gripping his own for comfort.  
  
'Nobody should find this cottage,' said Lupin softly, 'unless they know where it is'.  
  
Harry knew this was said in an attempt to comfort him, but the afterthought of 'unless' made was filled with doubt and did little to quell his nerves.  
  
'It could be an animal', the older man continued.  
  
However, this was immediately overturned as a short laugh fractured the natural background of the night. So menacing against the howls of the wind the laugh echoed in Harry's mind far longer than it was aloud. Lupin edged toward the door and motioned for Harry to hide in the darkness under the stairs. Conflicted between his own fear and desire to help his friend, Harry compromised by lurking in the shadow the stairway provided, wand at the ready. Listening keenly for further noise, both struggled to hear anything else over the noise of the wind. Harry's nerves felt like tightly coiled springs, and his heart was straining to be released from his chest, banging painfully against his ribs. His mouth was dry and it felt like a small hedgehog had taken up residence in his throat, making it difficult to breath.  
  
Still nothing above the wail of the wind and the rustle of the trees in the wood. Harry strained further, imagining he could hear footsteps or breathing, but could not distinguish between imagination and reality. Then Harry saw Lupin leapt back in alarm as something beat a desperate rhythm on the door. Harry himself felt the hairs on his neck stretch skyward, and his entire body pricked with hot pins.  
  
Every muscle on Lupin's body was alert, his wand arm outstretched but steady as a rock. Harry's own arm was quivering like the boughs outside. The terrible knock resounded around the cottage once more, only this time it seemed to be accompanied by a small plaintive cry. While Harry doubted this was more than the whisper of the wind, it seemed Lupin had heard it too. In the deathly silence inside of the cottage Harry saw Lupin's mouth begin to move. As noise ceased outside the building he could discern Lupin's mutterings.  
  
''Why would they knock?''  
  
As Lupin glanced at Harry, Harry understood what he meant. If Death Eaters discovered the hideout it was unlikely they would dispense with chaos and carnage in favour of manners. Harry's feverish mind then countered this with the nasty question 'what if the Death Eaters know that, too?'  
  
Harry continued to watch Lupin, who had turned his gaze to the photographs strewn over the floor.  
  
''Someone who knows where it is''  
  
Harry saw the conflict scurrying across Lupin's face. He reached his hand toward the doorknob, but as he glanced back toward Harry he decided against it. As he looked at Harry, attempting to be brave despite the fear chilling his bones, the doubt was overthrown by a grim determination to protect his young charge. Facing the door once more his stance was strong, and his wand raised once more. No more noise came. The wind whipped the chimney and the rain battered the roof, but all else was silent.  
  
Then the knocking began again, only this time it was barely heard. Two feeble raps were followed by a hoarse cry. The sound was weak and quiet, but both men could decipher it.  
  
'Remus'.  
  
At the call of his name, Remus's heart filled with hope and desperation and, wand not forgotten, he flung the door open, and wind and rain drove into the house that had long been their target of assault. Framed in the doorway was a terrifying figure. Black against the night it appeared to be made of dripping rags, held together by a pathetic frame. Harry gaped in astonishment as it fell against the door frame, and a small sigh escaped the black mass where the head must be. As the scarecrow figure fell forward, Remus scooped the body up in his arms, like a grotesque doll. Clutching tightly to the sodden bundle in his arms Lupin turned and mounted the stairs with grim determination, everything else forgotten.  
  
Awww – poor Harry forgotten about. We'll remember him next chapter.  
  
Please R&R, if'n you have the time.  
  
Sham 


	4. Visitors

Harry leaned his weight against the door, pushing it shut against the force of the gale. He released his breath in one huge sigh and felt his heart calm its rapid beating beneath his ribs. As the blood in his veins ceased to be hot and prickly he was filled with the cold buzz of confusion. Lupin's behaviour was so far out of character he could have been an entirely different man. Harry felt betrayed; not only had Lupin opened the door, which both knew was supposed to be shut at all times, for both their protection, but he had then proceeded to ignore Harry and abandon him to any fate. Harry could not forget the torn look on Lupin's face as he glanced from the door, to Harry, to ... the photo abums. Harry's heart leapt with nauseating intensity. Sirius! Common sense told him this was impossible, but another voice countered, claiming this would explain Lupin's unusual behaviour. This voice was supported by his heart, which ignored his head's warnings and strained to burst through his chest and fly up the stairs. Harry's feet followed, as he took the steps two or three at a time, leaping from each as if to soar to Sirius' side. He heard noise emitting from Remus's room, and veered into the room coming to a halt at the foot of the bed.  
  
Remus looked up in bewilderment from his patient, as Harry stared at the figure in the bed, as streams of soothing light flew from Lupin's wand and caressed the pathetic frame. His head sank like a stone as his heart caught up with his head. The figure was not Sirius. The hair plastered to its face was lank and fair, and as the person twitched in disturbed unconsciousness the hair fell to reveal a woman's face. Harry choked back tears of frustration and ripped his eyes from the figure that gave him such hope and crushing disappointment. He looked at Remus through brimming eyes and the older man walked to his side.  
  
''I'm sorry Harry'', Harry did not know if this was for his actions, or that he seemed to read his thoughts. It could have been both. "I'm afraid I must ask a favour of you."  
  
Harry nodded, it was all he could trust himself to do.  
  
"I will explain everything to you soon," Remus laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "But first I must ask for advice myself. Can I leave you with her while I go call for help?"  
  
Another tentative nod.  
  
"Thankyou Harry. Just call me if there's any change."  
  
And with that Remus hurried from the room, with only a worried glance at the breathing corpse in his bed.  
  
Harry stole to the head of the bed, to more closely examine the face of the imposter. It was not Sirius, but the face bore the same gaunt, haunted expression the tainted Sirius' face after his escape from Azkaban. The face was pale, expect for the red streaks where whips from tree braches left tracks not yet fully healed by Remus' medicine, heavy bags weighed the hollow eye sockets and the eyes were screwed shut in fear as the body twitched in fear of unknown demons. The antipathy Harry felt towards the woman melted away as pity seized his heart. Once more, vibrant life had been tainted and disfigured, and Harry remembered with enormous grief the effect of Azkaban on his dynamic godfather. Harry tried to imagine how this woman would have appeared, and what terrors she had endured to find herself in such a sorry state. Then, as her restless fidgeting turned her features towards him, Harry felt the great slabs of the jigsaw slide seamlessly into place. His eyes widened as he recognised the women from the photographs, but while now one piece of the puzzle seemed solved, it's resolution now threw up an increasing amount of questions. Who was this woman? How had she startled Remus? Why had he never seen her before, and why, upon her discovery, did she appear at the door? Harry recalled there were two in the photograph, so which was this? And where was her twin?  
  
Harry peered intently at the woman, searching for answers in her unresponsive features. 'Who are you?' He wondered, and her eyelids fluttered and sprung open, as if answering his mental call.  
  
"James?" she whispered, her voice little more than a croak. Puzzled eyes bore into his before slipping once more into unconsciousness.  
  
Harry's mouth opened and shut for a few seconds, fumbling around words before he called out, "Remus! Remus!"  
  
Harry heard answering footsteps thunder up the thin staircase, "She spoke. She recognised me. Or at least she thought she did. She called me James".  
  
"I imagine she did." Replied Dumbledore as he appeared in the doorway.  
  
"Professor!" exclaimed Harry, wondering how Dumbledore had arrived so swiftly, "How did –"  
  
"I have my means, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted, "but for now Madame Pomfrey has a patient to attend."  
  
Madam Pomfrey, who had followed Dumbledore in, swept across the room and gave Harry a fleeting smile before busying herself by the bedside. Remus hovered in the doorway, wringing his hands and looking utterly wretched. Harry had never seen his former teacher looking so lost and unsure, and was thoroughly grateful when Dumbledore intervened.  
  
"Come Remus, I know you want to be by her side, but Poppy is better working without distraction. There is nothing more you can do for the moment, and we have much to discuss downstairs." Dumbledore turned to Harry, "And I'm rather partial to a hot cup of tea. Think you can manage that Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded, speechless once more.  
  
"No milk or sugar thankyou." Dumbledore continued, and Harry was sure Dumbledore gave him a small conspiratorial wink as he escorted Remus into the lounge. For his part, Remus looked thoroughly relieved that someone else was taking control and was willingly placed in a sagging armchair.  
  
Harry walked slowly into the kitchen, delaying so that he might hear some of the conversation, however, it took Dumbledore some time to engage Remus' attention, so he had only begun "This complicates matters", before Harry was out of earshot. Quickly but quietly, Harry rifled through cupboards to find teabags and an old kettle. Harry was distressed to see just how little provisions Lupin had, and thought with sorrow how thin and pale his friend was. Conditions had still not improved for him even after Umbridge's 'removal'. As Harry hurriedly made two cups of tea he felt again the pang of guilt for worsening the situation. Harry desperately strained to hear what was being said in the next room, but both men were speaking so quietly that it was an impossible task to decipher the mutterings. Impatiently Harry willed the kettle to boil, and almost scalded himself in his hurry to return to the lounge. Quietly, in an attempt to allow the conversation to continue undisturbed Harry stole back into the lounge.  
  
"The house is already protected,"  
  
"And we could try to increase it further, although I cannot imagine what could be placed that is not already here. It is not this that concerns me, though Remus, this move would put you in grave danger."  
  
"Graver danger don't you mean?" asked Remus, wryly, as Harry bit his lip. It seemed Harry was always putting people under threat.  
  
"And the stakes would be raised. The risk is increased, the loss doubled."  
  
"I would willingly die for both. And even if one alone were found – well, we're done for anyway. Two is no greater risk."  
  
Harry's heart surged at this passion from his friend, and again the guilt gnawed at his conscience. Harry was dangerous, but this other? The girl? It must be she too who posed a threat, but how?  
  
"I can see your mind is set, my child, and I would not dare to dissuade you from it. But I must ask Harry," Dumbledore continued, "He has been hovering behind our backs for a good few minutes, and must be keen to enter this discussion."  
  
Harry gave a guilty start, and reddening, handed the men their drinks, and awaited Dumbledore to speak.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore began, "If the young lady upstairs is well enough, she will be left in the charge of Remus. He would not dream of attempting to desert you in turn, but I am keen to know your feelings regarding this matter."  
  
"I want to stay," cried Harry, a little too eagerly, his curiosity overflowing into his speech. "I mean, I want to help." As Harry glanced at his weary friend, concern etched all over his face, further furrowing his premature wrinkles, Harry realised he said this with total honesty. Any aid he could give the struggling man would be his pleasure.  
  
Dumbledore saw this and smiled. "I am searching for the best course of action, and I believe this could be it. But I must make an proposal on the subject of food –,"  
  
Here Remus attempted to interject, but Dumbledore cut him off with a wave of the hand.  
  
"No, Remus. I appreciate your feelings on this matter, but I think that under the circumstances you should reconsider my offer. Remember, this would not only be for you, but as payment from me for much appreciated favour. And you now have two others beside yourself to think about."  
  
Remus sighed, defeated, and nodded in acceptance.  
  
"Good," continued Dumbledore, "Now all we need is Poppy's diagnosis and – ah, here she is."  
  
All three turned to face Madam Pomfrey who was muttering to herself as she descended the stairs. Dumledore let her finish her murmered accompaniment before asking her,  
  
"What news Poppy?"  
  
She sighed as she looked into Remus' desperate eyes.  
  
"I have no problem with her staying here, as I'm sure it would be for the best," said the nurse, and Harry noted Dumbledore's silent nod, "physically, she should have no problem returning to peak health with the right regenerative potions," she turned to Remus, "I have left bottles and instruction by the bed." Here she heaved a great sigh and her eyes fell to the ground. "Mentally, I am not at all sure what state she will be in when she wakes. I have administered a potion to calm her dreams, but I cannot tell when she will regain consciousness. I suggest you contact us immediately when she rouses, since we," the nurse's voice began to fail, "since we do not really know what has happened in the past ..." Here her voice trailed off.  
  
Dumbledore rose and gazed sympathetically at Remus, whose long fingers were white from gripping the armchair. He placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Remus, I think it would be fine for you to go upstairs now."  
  
Remus merely nodded, and ascended the stairs mechanically, as though a puppeteer was controlling his jerky movements from the landing above. Dumbledore saw Harry's concern and smiled.  
  
"I think he will thank you for your company Harry." His face darkened. "I think this will be harder than he imagined." He smiled compassionately once more, and turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Come Poppy, I'm sure we can leave Mr Lupin in Mr Potter's capable hands. We can see ourselves out."  
  
Dumbledore smiled as Harry followed his ex-teacher up the stairs. Yes, a task to keep his mind from dwelling on sorrows. Their co-dependence could be a very positive thing.  
  
As Harry bounded onto the landing he heard his headmaster speak one last refrain, "Let us leave Poppy, I have some work to do on this", before a blowing sound and silence indicated to Harry that they were alone once more. Harry took a deep breath before he entered the room to see Remus sat by the bedside caressing still and seemingly lifeless fingers.  
  
"Hello Harry", he said weakly. "I'm sorry for all this disturbance. It was never intended." His voice faltered, "I couldn't even imagine this happening. Never have thought."  
  
"Who is she?" asked Harry, tentatively. "I mean, I know she's from the photographs, but who is she? What is she doing here? And why - ?" Harry made a gesture which indicated very effectively 'Why is she in this state?'.  
  
Remus heaved a sigh and conjured a chair for Harry. He recognised it as his chair from downstairs. "Make yourself comfortable Harry," said Lupin, "I'm going to have to tell you this from the beginning."

Many apologies to those who thought the mystery person was Sirius. Maybe we'll see him again other than in flashbacks ...maybe... but not yet. I didn't pick up on the fact that Lupin picked up a 'boy' in his arms at the end of the last chapter, it was supposed to read 'body'. Oooops - hides. It has been changed now.  
  
Anyway – we're nearly into Sirius and Remus in school type of stuff, so it's gonna be less angsty and a little more romancey. I think. Actually, I'll probably descend into angst, as usual. Well, its not gonna be slash (sorry to slash fans), but I'll let the lads have a little fun.  
  
Please R&R to tell me what you did/didn't like.  
  
I have no problem with negative slant reviews – but I would like CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, unlike whoever signed in as JKR ... fair enough if you hated it – but do you mind giving me a clue as to which particular parts annoyed you?  
  
As for the rest, thanks for the support, and hope to update sooner!  
  
Sham 


	5. The Incident

[ A/N: G'day people. We're finally about to learn a little about the twins that got Remus so edgy. Not much, but a little. I apologise if the chapter is a little jumpy. The present day is told in 3rd person, but mainly from Harry's perspective, but the past will be given with bits from both Remus and Sirius' perspective. I figure this could happen even though Remus is narrator, because Sirius could have later told him his P.O.V. OK? Oh, and for the Ocs, their characters may sometimes appear a little extreme. This will be explained in later chapters. I think that's all the info you need for now. ]

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Incident**  
  
Harry settled into the familiar chair and looked eagerly at Remus, who had his eyes fixed on his hands, which were toying with one of the many potion bottles strewn across the bedside table. Replacing it, he took a deep breath and forced himself to look Harry directly in his questioning eyes.  
  
"Do you remember last year?" began Lupin, "When you, er, happened to see Sev – Proferssor Snape's memories in the Pensieve? The incident by the lake?"  
  
Harry made an indistinct noise of confirmation. That humiliating revelation of his father's nature was hard to forget.  
  
"Well," continued Lupin, his voice becoming distant and dreamy, "it probably began, or at least something began, that day. The twins were there, too, with your mother by the lakeside."

* * *

"Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate", said Sirius.  
  
Remus closed his eyes and groaned. Sirius seemed to enjoy putting his large feet into his even larger mouth. Baiting James about Lily was not the smartest idea, considering it usually had disastrous consequences. Fortunately for Sirius, at the minute he was not the target of James' anger.  
  
"Right," said James. He really looked furious now, after being insulted and humiliated he was obviously ready to vent some frustration. Remus prayed it wouldn't be too cruel a punishment for Severus. While Remus strongly disapproved of what he had called Lily, especially after her noble attempts to help him, he didn't think that Severus fully deserved the bullying he received at the hands of his friends.  
  
Remus looked up at another flash of light and saw Snape once again hanging upside down in the air.  
  
His brows furrowed further as James asked the eager crowd, "Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"  
  
Remus bit his lip. He desperately wanted to tell his friends to stop, but therein lay the problem. They were his friends, and he would desperately cling to them. He was lucky to find them and he could not risk pushing them away. What right had a werewolf to challenge such accepting companions?  
  
Sirius looked positively delighted at the escalation of events, Y'know James?" he drawled dryly, "While I'm repulsed by the very thought of what's under them, I have to admit I'm morbidly curious – OW!"  
  
Sirius was interrupted as something collided with the back of his head. Feeling his skull with a grimace he bent down to identify the missile, and was shocked to pick up a shoe. He turned to face his assailant, the still dangling Snape forgotten, and glared as a fair haired girl came to a furious halt before them.  
  
"De Moitié," Sirius growled, removing his fingers from his hair to find them streaked with blood.  
  
"Serves you right," snapped Laina De Moitié, eyes flaming, "Lily's right. You're just arrogant pricks, you don't care who you hurt as long as you're centre of attention."  
  
Sirius and James looked shell shocked, staring at the irate girl. Sirius still held the shoe in his limp hand and Remus saw that Laina was barefoot from walking in the lake. He noticed her twin behind her, holding her other shoe and looking thoroughly embarrassed. Remus knew Ella, and was well aware that she hated public spectacle, so he sympathised greatly when her twin included her in her assault.  
  
"Well, WE'RE not part of your stupid fan club", Laina waved her arm in the direction of Ella, who had eyes downcast as if eager for the ground to swallow her, and Laina glared round at the circle of eager students, an audience baying for blood. She continued furiously, "Well, I'm going to do what Lily suggested a long time ago."  
  
And with that she gave the cry of _expelliaramus,_ and nimbly caught the wands that flew to her outstretched hand. Snape, who had fallen to the ground as the wand and spell holding him up were removed, groped on the floor to find his own missing, too. Laina treated him to a contemptuous glance and said, "You should be nicer to people who try and help you. Manners, you know?"  
  
With that, she spun around and flung the wands with a powerful throw, mostly fuelled by passion rather than actual strength, into the lake. The calm surface was broken for only a minute before it became glassy once more as the waters enveloped the wands.  
  
The audience watched with open mouths as Laina snatched her shoe back from a stunned Sirius and stormed back to the castle to catch Lily, bare feet stomping in the grass. Ella followed sheepishly, pausing only to give Remus a disappointed glance that made him feel worse than he wagered Sirius or James, now frantically running to reclaim their wands, felt.

* * *

"How do you think he's doing?" asked Sirius, glancing over to where James stood, desperately attempting to apologise to a still fuming Lily.  
  
Remus craned his neck so that he could see over the back of the sofa. "Definitely not good," he sighed as Lily turned on her heel, and left the common room, head shaking.  
  
"Well Prongs," asked Sirius as James plonked himself on the seat beside him, "she yours yet?"  
  
"Shut it Sirius" came the grunted reply.  
  
Sirius' grin widened as Remus shot daggers at him.  
  
"No, I'm serious, has she still not yielded to the furious onslaught of your charm?" Sirius continued.  
  
"I said shut up."  
  
"You're not doing so well in the love department yourself, Padfoot." countered Remus, attempting to divert the attention from James' failure.  
  
"Au contraire, my petty minded wolf-friend," smiled Sirius, "I have finally given being single a chance, and admit it quite agrees with me."  
  
"Given it a chance?" snorted Peter, "Say, exactly how long have you been single for?"  
  
"Five days." Boasted Sirius. "Kylie Whats-her-name." He glanced at James, who still seemed to be in his own gloomy reverie, and decided that the only way to cheer his friend up was further taunting.  
  
"However," he said, "Despite my affection for the bachelor's life, I'm sure that were I to try, even our cold hearted maiden Lily would be powerless to resist my devastating allure."  
  
James' eyebrows furrowed as he muttered "Prove it?"  
  
"What's that Prongs, mate?"  
  
"I said prove it," James now looked up with fiery mischief in his eyes, "if you dare" he added.  
  
Sirius grinned, "Thought dear Evans was out of bounds?"  
  
"Not her then," continued James, "how 'bout De Moitié?"  
  
Sirius' smile faltered. "That crazy bitch? You're having a laugh." Sirius patted the back of his head. Despite it being healed hours previously he could still hear the whistling of the shoe as it cut the wind before it hit its target.  
  
"Seems fair to me," said Remus, "After all, it's a similar challenge as James has with Lily." He smiled apologetically as Sirius glared at him.  
  
"But it should be no problem for the King of Charisma" supplied James, his eyes glinting fiendishly, "Perhaps I could learn something from you."  
  
Peter piped up, "Which De Moitié?" he asked "There's two."  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes as Remus supplied, "Laina, the one who uses his head for target practice."  
  
"Actually," James said, let's make it easier for our Prince Charming, "You can go for both."  
  
All three stared at James.  
  
"Laina, because with you both being on the team you have more opportunity to see her, and Ella, because she's less inclined to try to beat you to a pulp." James' smile seemed ready to snap his face. "I think that our lady magnet could manage to ensnare one of our little ladies in a two-week time slot, don't you?" He glanced at Peter, who agreed excitedly.  
  
"Come on Pete," said James, rising, "I'm in the mood to beat you at chess".  
  
Peter giggled nervously and followed James, who turned and placed his hand on the frowning Sirius' shoulder. "Good luck, Padfoot," he whispered, "I'm sure you won't disappoint."  
  
Remus and Sirius were silent for some time, each embroiled in their own thoughts. Sirius was unusually pensive. Eventually, Remus ventured some consoling words, "Don't worry about it Padfoot, I'm sure it'll be no different to the countless girls you've won over."  
  
Sirius sighed, "You're wrong Moony, it's very different."  
  
Remus noted with concern the worried tone the pervaded Sirius' words. Could it be that he realised how unfair the bet was on the girls? Was he just worried about losing to James? It was certain that no-on would suggest ignoring the dare; James and Sirius were best friends, but they were also competitive, and after Sirius' comments he could not refuse the dare.  
  
"Moony?" Sirius began.  
  
Remus looked up into Sirius' eyes, which seemed almost pleading.  
  
"You're good friends with Ella, right? I mean, you have all those little study sessions?"  
  
Remus nodded as his heart gave a little jolt at the thought of these private meetings.  
  
"Well, you couldn't, you know, feel her out for me could you? See what she thinks of me? If there's anything I can use?" Sirius had the grace to look a little uncomfortable at such obvious manipulation.  
  
Remus sighed inwardly. Sirius was his friend, and had done a lot for him. Whatever his personal feelings he would have to help Sirius however he could.  
  
"Sure, Padfoot," Remus looked at Sirius and swallowed his own disappointment, "No problem."

* * *

Phew. Chapter 5 done. Will try and get 6 out asap. We're gonna be staying in the past for a bit. So much more Remus and Sirius. We'll see you soon. Oh, and R&R – especially if you think anyone is OOC and suggestions to bring them back in line. 


	6. Plans and Pencils

A/N: I apologise for the inferiority of this chapter but I'm not very good with conversations. By the way – in this chapter Remus is a bit slow on the uptake, bless his little cotton socks, but I figure he has such low self esteem he cannot get what she's trying to tell him. It doesn't help that they're both shy lil darlings, bless. I also don't know whether wizards have need for pencils, but the idea got into my head and it stuck. So there.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Plans and Pencils**  
  
The next afternoon Remus was sat in the library getting more and more frustrated as he attempted to conjure a pencil. 'When conjuring items, there is no incantation,' Professor Flitwick had said, 'You must simply feel the shape of the item in the air, and bring it into being.' Remus felt it had been a little smug of him to conjure a chair to sit upon while he watched the students struggle with pencils, and Sirius had said so as his fifth pencil stubbornly failed to exist, 'I'll bring my foot into being up his arse, smug little git.'  
  
Remus was now faring a little better, after an hour's extra practice he could produce a real pencil, but his efforts had yet to remain in existence before disappearing with a truly aggravating pop. He sighed as his latest attempt appeared in the world and, deciding it did not like it, bid farewell to its desperate creator.  
  
"Don't worry, you're doing much better than me," Ella smiled from the other side of the table.  
  
Remus returned her grin as he saw the state of the table before her. Ella, unlike Remus, could not seem to get rid of that which she conjured, and as this was merely the lead filling she appeared to be hemmed into her place by a small black mountain.  
  
Ella concentrated once more, willing anything but thin black rods into being. Sure enough the small piece of lead appeared on the desk, and rolled to a stop at the feet of its brothers.  
  
"That's it!" she cried, "I officially give up. I have no need for pencils, I have my beautiful quill right here." She caressed her quill as she went on, "I am officially pencilphobic."  
  
She began to methodically snap each offending piece of lead in two. Remus laughed, looked earnestly into her eyes and said,  
  
"Look, I know it's hard, but you must stop this senseless massacre. Look at the terrible carnage, you surely don't intend to exterminate each and every pencil, can you?"  
  
She continued with increased determination, "I damn well do."  
  
Laughing, Remus, forcibly took hold of both her hands, "No. I won't let you."  
  
"Damn you Lupin." She mock sighed. "Look, OK, I'll stop. But only because it's you."  
  
Remus nodded, and grudgingly released his grip. Calming the butterflies that had erupted at this close contact Remus remembered his promise to Sirius. In deference to the fact Sirius was his friend he did as he had asked him. In deference to both his own feelings, and the fact this plan involved manipulating other people Remus worded the question very carefully.  
  
"Ella, can I ask you something?"  
  
She nodded in encouragement.  
  
'Subtly', Sirius had said. Remus kept this in mind.  
  
"What do you think of Sirius?" he asked outright.  
  
Ella looked taken aback. "Well, if this is about yesterday," she began, hesitantly, "I was only disappointed that you don't voice your own moral feelings to your friends. I don't judge you as one of them. I don't agree with the way Sirius and James treat people like Severus, but that doesn't reflect on you. Not to me anyway."  
  
It was Remus' turn to be shocked, and her disappointment with him hit him harder than he imagined. "Oh, no," he sputtered, "that's not what I meant." In an attempt to recover from his embarrassment he charged on, "I meant how do you like Sirius, as a friend?"  
  
Ella looked confused. She shrugged, "I don't know. I know you like him, which makes m think he must be a good guy." She faltered, "I guess I don't agree with some of the things he does. He's charming, but he knows it. He's smart, and athletic, but he doesn't use his talent right. Why do you ask?"  
  
Each compliment she gave to Sirius pricked his heart and acted like a tourniquet on his throat. However, each insult glowed and warmed his stomach like a miniature sun. Disgusted with himself, Remus tried to make amends for Sirius.  
  
"He IS a good guy. I know sometimes he can seem a jerk, but that's not who he is. He hides his true persona. He's really kind, and fiercely loyal, and funny, too. He's giving and - "  
  
"Look, I'm sorry to interrupt," Emma said, "but you're really confusing me. You ask me if I like Sirius and then go on to challenge my opinion. Are you asking me for my blessing so you can go out with him?"  
  
"What?!" Remus almost choked, "No!"  
  
"Sorry," she giggled. "Obviously not. I'm quite relieved, to be honest, he's obviously a nice guy, but he's really not your type." She smiled shyly.  
  
Remus ploughed on. "No, I was wondering if YOU could ever think of him as more than, you know, a friend, or even an acquaintance."  
  
"Oh." She seemed at a loss for words. Staring at the desk, she fiddled with a piece of lead, twisting the black rod between her fingers. "I never really thought of him like that. To be honest I don't think I ever would." She paused again. "He's not really my type either, you see." She looked at Remus once more. "I kind of like somebody else."  
  
Remus' felt as though his heart had dive bombed through his stomach. "Oh." Was all he could manage.  
  
Ella stared at him, "I think he'd like him though."  
  
Remus gave her a weak smile. His heart protested against extra torture, but he was filled with a terrible morbid curiosity. "Would he? I'm sure he'd like to know who." So he can curse the bastard Remus thought bitterly.  
  
"Don't you want to know? You are one of my closest friends" she asked. Her small smile was really beginning to drive him mad and the conflict inside only allowed him to manage an almost imperceptible nod.  
  
She looked about to speak before something got the better of her and she halted, seeming ready to change her mind about telling him. Remus detested her elongating his suffering and watched with gloomy fascination as she picked up one of the pencil leads instead, and wrote two symbols on a piece of parchment in front of her.  
  
To his despair the letters written in neat lower case formed the initials lj. "Lionel Jordan?" he croaked.  
  
She wasn't smiling any more as she shook her head. Instead she was biting her lip, a habit Remus knew she did when she was nervous. Not taking her eyes off him, she turned the paper to face him.  
  
The letters re-formed and swam back into focus as r.l. Remus felt something leap from his chest to punch the back of his throat and play pinball on his tonsils. He snapped his head up to see the blush flooding her freckled cheeks.  
  
"Is that alright?" she managed.  
  
Remus was filled with cheer, and with a swift nod he leant across the desk and forgotten charms work and planted a quick blissful kiss on her surprised lips. She gave a short laugh of relief and the blush intensified at Remus' boldness, which was so out of character.  
  
"You're serious?" he checked, although it was a little too late to be asking, and the red flooded his cheeks, too.  
  
She nodded fervently and returned his affection.  
  
"But," Remus pulled away, "what you said before? About me not standing up for Snape. Are you still disappointed?" His shame at her words was still bubbling putridly underneath his excitement.  
  
Gently licking her lip as if to recapture the touch and taste of his lips on hers, she tenderly squeezed his fingers and replied, "Not any more."  
  
"What about Sirius?"  
  
"Sorry Harry?" Lupin snapped out of his daydream and turned to face the eager boy.  
  
"What about Sirius? Did he still go through with the dare?"  
  
"Of course he did," smiled Lupin fondly. "Sirius would never dream of backing down. However, he was a little annoyed at me for removing Ella from the equation. 'You pillock' were his precise words, if I remember correctly."  
  
"Because now he had to try for Laina? And she hated his guts?"  
  
"Partly. It was no secret that there was friction between the two, which would certainly make it harder for him to charm her. However, there was a slightly more complicated reason as to why Sirius was reluctant to entice her, other than the fact that she would probably beat him up if she found out."  
  
Before Harry could question further Lupin raised a hand to silence him. "I'm sorry, Harry, I will continue my story later if you like, but for now there are other people who require my attention." And with that Lupin begin pouring out medicine, mixing potions, and encouraging liquid between unresponsive lips, leaving Harry to ponder his many unanswered questions.

* * *

From the final paragraph replace Harry for you guys, Lupin with me, and the medicine with my life, and you got my final A/N. 


	7. Accounts of Love

* * *

Hello children,

Semi-back off holiday, so have some time to update before I go again – to LEEDS FESTIVAL – a woooo-hooooo! Ahem, sorry. Anyway, here's a little more ... well, at the minute I can only call it fluff. But it will get moving at some point, I just want to give Remus a little loving poor guy. Plus, I have to do some happy stuff as I'm full of cheer – having passed both my driving test and my A-levels. Sorry – but my cup is so brimming with joy I have to share. Anyway, about this chapter...

1) Sorry for the reference to delicate flower, to me it either comes off sappy and over-fluffy, or as a unitended double-entendre. It is really meant in either way – just a tender action but I got writers block and couldn't think of another way to put it. So sorry.

2) James – aahhh, Mr James Potter. I never really liked James too much, at first he seemed a little too perfect, so when he turned out to be an arrogant sod he went up in my estimations. However, he still always appeared in my mind as a bit blah. But writing this I've developed a little affection for him. He's a sweetie underneath it all.

3) Peter. I know he doesn't get many lines in this... but he just seems to me as the kind of feller who would prefer to listen to others talk. Low self esteem sort of prevents him from voicing his own opinion. Or he's just boring. But anyway, wouldn't we prefer to hear the others talk?

4) I know my language and writing style is a little different from JKs, but I feel I write better this way. After all, a friend once said to me, "Be a first class version of yourself, rather than a second class version of somebody else." Soppy, but true. So I'm striving for first class me-ness.

Right – that's a long enough A/N – I can give you the story now, sorry for the wait.

* * *

Harry gave a satisfied smile as he wiped the suds off the last plate. Dumbledore had been as good as his word and the previously bare cupboards were now bursting with food. It seemed as though he intended to sustain an entire army through winter, although Harry was not complaining at such excess. Such bounty allowed him the freedom to make anything he desired, and while Lupin had intended to cook Harry insisted he took the responsibility while Remus took some hard-earned rest. At any rate, it was not a chore to Harry, but a privilege, as he was glad of the opportunity to make sure both were well fed for the first time in almost two months. After a brief nap, for which he had chastised himself, Remus had eaten hurriedly but not forgetting to show his gratitude, and, after accepting Harry's offer to clean up, had dashed back up the stairs to maintain his attentive vigil. Harry gave the small kitchen an appraising glance and followed his friend up the stairs, entering the master bedroom that was serving as the infirmary.

Remus, as usual, was sat by the bedside. The lifeless body showed no change, the only movement being the occasional toss as the subconscious roamed where the body could not. Remus held a small pale hand in his own, stroking the tiny fingers with feather light tenderness, as if caressing a delicate flower. The affection with which he did so suggested to Harry that this twin may be Ella, at least as far as Remus' story had told him. Seeming to read his mind Lupin smiled up at Harry.

"Did you want more?" he asked, gesturing with his free hand to the seat reserved for Harry.

Harry eagerly agreed as he settled himself in the chair.

"Where were we up to?" Lupin asked.

"'You pillock', I think." Grinned Harry.

"Ah yes." Lupin laughed.

That evening Remus and Ella returned to the common room as a couple. As both were by nature painfully shy this involved merely walking in together, and the only thing that distinguished this occasion from any other was the slight brush of fingertips as they parted and the lighthouse blush radiating from both their faces.

The other three Marauders couldn't fail to notice Remus' unusual mood as he joined them.

"Well," said James, "what was going on there?"

"He was infiltrating enemy territory for me, weren't you?" grinned Sirius. "Come on then, what news? By the look of it you've got something thrilling to tell me to put my plan into action." Sirius smirked at James.

Remus squirmed uncomfortably avoided Sirius' gaze. His friend had obviously misinterpreted the situation. This would be even harder to admit to. Looking at his feet he began, "I don't think it's going to be very easy Padfoot."

Sirius laughed. "Cheer up, Moony, it can't be that bad. I wouldn't worry if she likes girls, it won't be that big an obstacle for me." James rolled his eyes at Sirius' – only slightly – mock arrogance.

"Yes, he does a very convincing drag act," piped up Peter, earning himself a huge guffaw from James and a fiery glare from Sirius.

"No, she doesn't like girls," Remus continued, "She likes boys. A particular boy in fact, which is the problem." As he glanced up at the eager faces of his friends, he was almost certain he saw a knowing smile grace James' face. This only disconcerted Remus, so he swiftly returned his gaze to the floor.

Sirius grinned, "A boyfriend? Moony-boy you had me worried for a minute, but a boyfriend? Easily fixed. Who is the poor guy I'll shortly be replacing?"

As the anger welled up inside him Remus ended his inspection of the carpet and looked Sirius straight in the eye. Remus only felt slightly guilty as he dropped the bombshell to wipe out the arrogant grin on his friend's face.

"Me." He said.

"You?" Sirius choked in surprise. "Since when?"

"Since this afternoon," Remus answered definantly. "Turns out you had no chance, because she had her eye on somebody else."

"On you!" shouted Sirius, "On the backstabbing traitor who was supposed to be helping ME!"

Some of the remorse from earlier flooded back.

"Look, I'm sorry," amended Remus, "But, we get on really well, and for some time I've felt ... I like her back you know."

"You pillock" was all Sirius said in return.

"Oh leave it, Padfoot," James leapt in to defend Remus, "The poor chap's obviously in love." He pulled the smaller boy in a tight headlock and ruffled his hair. "And remember, not all is lost, there is another twin still left in the running." He gave Sirius a winsome grin, purposefully designed to infuriate his best friend further. "You still have one week and six days before the end of term in which to charm our lovely Laina De Moitié."

Sirius said nothing, but seemed to sink into despondency. The other three glanced over to the sofa where the twins were sitting with Lily. Lily and Laina seemed entranced by whatever Ella was saying and the occasional giggle was lifted across the common room. As the boys watched, Ella looked up, and met Remus' gaze with a nervous smile and the other two dissolved into further giggles.

"Women," James rolled his eyes. "Probably dissecting every tiny detail from your meeting, Moony."

"There's not really that much to tell." Remus glanced at the girls, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the thought his private life was under such eager scrutiny.

"Go on though." Encouraged Peter.

"What?"

"Tell us what happened then," said James, "We may not be gossipers but we still want to know."

"Well – " Remus began, but halted as Sirius leapt from his seat and stormed up the stairs to the dormitories.

"What's up with him?" asked Peter.

"Ignore him Moony," comforted James, who knew full well Remus took things very personally, "He's just feeling sorry for himself because he knows he'll lose. Either that, or he's jealous that somebody else is getting some action."

Peter laughed, but Remus still looked worried.

"Go on, mate." Pushed James. "But leave out the flowery bits and bluebirds twittering."

Remus gave one last look at the staircase, then, heart leaping afresh launched into his story.

Remus had barely finished his account - butterflies invading his stomach once more at the memory of the kiss, when both anxiety and excitement had fired electric thrills at each other through his veins – when he disappointed his audience by reminding them both of their impending Transfiguration and Charms exams.

"Bloody hell Moony," exclaimed James, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation, "how can you even think of revising at a time like this? You get the girl you've obviously been head over heels about for ages, but abandon that for your overwhelming love for Transfiguration."

"It's our OWLS," Remus chastised, ears pricking slightly at James' comment 'obviously'.

"OWLS, schmowls. I tell you, if I had Lily, I certainly wouldn't be studying in the common room. In fact, we wouldn't be in the common room at all."

James gave a broad dirty grin that caused Peter to burst into peals of excited giggles, and the familiar blush invaded Remus' cheeks.

"Anyway," Remus reached for his wand, "Ella's revising, too."

This much was true, both she and Lily were now nose-deep in parchment, frantically absorbing Transfiguration notes. Laina seemed to have adopted what Remus called the 'Sirius' method of revision – when he actually bothered to do any – which entailed picking a piece of paper at random, frowning at it for a minute and then disregarding it to pursue some more enjoyable activity. In Sirius' case this was likely to involve chatting up girls or jinxing tables to buck and spin whilst others were trying to work.

"Whatever, mate," said James, rising from his seat, "Good luck, but I don't know how you manage it." He walked round the back of the sofa, before bending and whispering in Remus' ear. "Oh, and I never said – congratulations. You did it - finally."

Remus whipped round, but James merely winked and strutted off to the dorms. He felt uncomfortable, knowing that others had guessed his secret, when he tried so hard to disguise it, but then James was one of his greatest friends, and he trusted him with far more important skeletons that lurked in his insecure closet. Remus for a book, as Peter rustled through scruffy notes beside him, and smiled inwardly. It wasn't a secret anymore, anyway. This knowledge filled him with a heady intoxicating glow as he settled to study, but it turned out James was right. He couldn't concentrate. The fire dancing in his stomach could not be quenched, and filled every fibre in his body with an intense heat that tingled with excitement, and when he happened to catch Ella's eyes the flame rose and grew, filling his brain with heady vapour and reaching out with gleaming tendrils up to his chest and smother his pounding heart with joy.

* * *

There ya go – will get onto Sirius shortly. I'm working on several chapters for this at the moment, so hopefully we'll get a quicker turnover. Don't be strangers - review criticisms and suggestions are always appreciated.

Oh, and I was wondering – if anyone has the time, if in later chapters people might like to do some fan art ... there'll be plenty of plugging for you. It's just my sister's been doing some, as have I, but I'm a pretty inferior artist, but I'm a huge fan of fan art. E-mail me at if you're interested. Or even if you just want a rant about my destruction of the characters.

Til next time,

Sham.


	8. Happily Ever Afters

Sorry that this will be the last post for about a week – as I already bragged I'm going to Leeds festival (which should rock) so I won't have chance to update (which won't rock) but I will have much chillin' time in which to write (which will be awesome). For now, I've got some more smushy stuff for a while, for which I apologise, but I've tried to make it as engaging as possible. Remus is such a darling that he needs his lovin'. Oh, and I know that the timing skips about a bit, but just remember this is during and after OWLs and started two weeks before the end of term. That gives you something to cling to. We're still in the past ...

* * *

Remus stretched in his chair and smiled contentedly. The last glimmering threads of sunlight lit the busy common room as a swollen red sun hovered sleepily above a distant horizon The sunset was all the more spectacular, hailing as it did an end to the OWLs and Remus' gruelling revision. His skin felt warm and glowing from an afternoon in glorious sunshine, the weather seeming to rejoice just like the relieved students. Currently he was sat on a chair in the common room playing chess with Ella. Rather, he was playing chess with himself, as despite his best efforts Ella couldn't seem to grasp the mechanics of the game.

After glaring at the board for several minutes she hesitantly poked a piece and tried to urge it across the board towards Remus' end.

"Horse thing to G wotsit... er – six." She gave it a small prod with her finger as the knight just stared back indignantly.

Grinning, Remus reached out and guided her hand back to its starting position.

"What?" she sighed in exasperation.

"Nothing. It would be a good move." He smiled fondly. "It's just a knight can't just storm across the board."

"You wanna ask Cadogan?", she muttered, as Remus took her hand and traced the right path with her finger.

"But if you move it this way," he showed her, "you can take one of my pieces."

"Knight to F3" he told the huffing knight, who nodded at him and moved across the tiled squares to take out a pawn, who glared furiously at Remus before being wiped off the board.

Remus now concentrated his side making their excellent progress across the board. It was hopeless. He was absolutely stuck. There was no move he could make that wouldn't result in putting Ella in check. He sighed, scratching his head. However hard he tried to avoid embarrassing her, he would have to take one of her pieces. He settled for removing a pawn, for which his own pieces appeared highly frustrated.

"You don't have to do that you know," Ella grinned. "I don't mind losing." Remus smiled guiltily as she glared at the offending chess set. "I'm absolutely not bitter in the slightest about totally sucking at this stupid pointless game."

Remus laughed. "You don't _totally _suck." He added consolingly.

"I do!" she exclaimed. "And do you know why? Because it's all underhand and covert. All this sneaking about and using people as tools in other plans. It's stupid, and immoral. They all must follow pre-determined socially-defined patterns, defending one figurehead. Pawns are wasted because they're considered worthless, but the king's protected because he's got a bloody stupid hat. They should start at both ends, lined up like they are, and then have a good old-fashioned charge, an honest scrum, and the victor is the one with most men left standing."

Remus laughed with her at this extravagant tirade, but in the back of his mind wondered if there was any truth to be found in her joking. He once more felt the sharp sting of guilt as he thought of Laina's position as, as Ella put it, a tool in another plan. He tried to put this betrayal out of his mind, but failed as he saw Sirius enter the portrait hole. Sirius leaned back to keep the portrait open for somebody else – to Remus' surprise Laina stepped through, arms full of broom and cast-off clothing. She appeared taken aback at this chivalrous act, but turned away with a suspicious frown. However, in her puzzlement she misjudged her step and dropped all that she was carrying. Remus watched as Sirius bent to help her and Ella, following his gaze, raised her eyebrows at the unexpected scene. Laina, too, was confused, but this served only to deepen her frown and she gave Sirius only the briefest thankyou before sweeping up the stairs to her room. Sirius became aware of his audience and, blushing, avoided Remus' gaze as he headed up his own stairs.

Remus felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find James leaning in to talk in his ear.

"Looks like Padfoot has finally decided to make an effort. Good thing too as he only has" James made a show of looking at his watch, "six days left. Although it doesn't seem like he's made much progress so far." James chuckled and left Remus in the very awkward position of explaining his words to a curious Ella.

"What was that James was saying?" she asked.

"Nothing." Remus said flatly, squirming uncomfortably in his seat.

"What's he making an effort about?"

"Just being nice to your sister, that's all," supplied Remus, "He could be a little friendlier don't you think?" He tried to escape the subject, "Now come on, I think I was beating you at chess."

Ella was not to be swayed. "We abandoned the game remember?"

Remus hoped she would abandon the topic too, but she continued unabated.

"That seemed a little more than just Sirius improving his social skills. Why is James monitoring his 'progress'?"

Remus knew he would have to tell her. Not only did he not want to lie, he also felt he owed her an apology for both his and her near-involvement into the sordid affair. He tried to find the right words to explain, but as the silence grew larger he decided the truth had to be supplied.

"James and Sirius have a small ..." Remus did no want to say competition, "rivalry involving their, erm - " Remus did not think this was going well at all, "– prowess with the opposite sex."

Ella looked no more satisfied.

"That is to say, erm, well, you know how James has a certain, er, lack of success with Lily?" A snicker from Ella replied in the affirmative. "Well, kind of resulting from that, James bet Sirius he couldn't get Laina to fall for him in two weeks." The final sentence was fired from his mouth at frantic pace so that the words blended together, as though getting them out quickly would avoid their impact.

He winced a little as he finished and looked up ready for the worst. He waited to be told that he was an unfeeling bastard, letting his callous friends manipulate others for entertainment, that she was going to tell her sister and let her release her wrath. Remus braced himself for all this and more, prepared himself for a look of anger, disappointment, betrayal. What he wasn't prepared for was to look into Ella's face to see her grinning as though Christmas had come early.

"Really?" she asked excitedly.

Remus nodded, too confused to speak.

"That's brilliant!"

Remus' mouth hung open. He thought back over what he had said but could find nothing that could be interpreted as 'brilliant'.

"Don't you see?" Remus most certainly did not. Ella rolled her eyes, "Laina is absolutely head over heels for Sirius!" she exclaimed, albeit quietly due to the few people remaining in the common room.

Remus shook his head. "She hates him. Everyone knows that. _Sirius_ knows that."

Ella shook her head in response. "No she doesn't. She likes him."

"She always yells at him, and, look she _hates _him," Remus stuttered, now thoroughly confused.

"She just gets frustrated that the object of her affections can be a ..."

"Tit?" supplied Remus.

"Exactly. She thinks he's perfect - or at least wants him to be - and it aches when he proves he can be as nasty as the rest of us."

"But she always insults him."

"Love has a funny way of showing itself."

"I can't believe it." Remus was shaking his head so much it appeared independent from his neck. "I just can't. She's so nasty to him, and about him, and with him. And he is to her." Remus amended. "In fact, the only time I've ever seen them acting even civil to each other is during Quidditch."

"Yes," Ella sighed, but then her smile broadened. "But now, it's different!"

"How?" Remus asked, daunted by her eagerness. Remus despised Divination, but had a terrible foreboding he was not going to like the answer.

"Well, if Sirius is going to start trying, then they can get together."

Remus was astonished. How could somebody pretty smart like Ella be so stupid? It wasn't _real_. Sirius was only acting nice to win a bet, and for his own purposes. And if Laina actually liked him then that only made the whole terrible situation worse. But then Remus sighed with relief as he remembered that Laina had seemed terribly suspicious of Sirius' motives. Unlike Ella, she would surely not be fooled by Sirius' attempts. She at least would be able to distinguish genuine affections from ulterior motives. He mentioned this to Ella to calm her excitement. Her face dropped.

"I'll think of something. I'll sleep on it." She resolved, and rose, sweeping the chess pieces up with the palm of her hand.

"Look," Remus struggled desperately to repair the situation and followed her to the stairs. "You can't make ..." he searched for the words, "You can't force happy endings on people."

"Yes I can." Ella stopped and faced Remus, looking thoughtful. "You know when you asked me if I liked Sirius?"

Remus' stomach did a wobbly backflip of guilt. "Yes." He said quietly.

"I wasn't part of the bet was I?" She frowned at Remus who tried to look appeasing.

"Not any more." He took her hand. He swallowed, this would either be charming and work, or make him fall flat on his face. "I took you out of the running." he dared.

Remus was enormously relieved to find that she laughed at this.

"Well, you're an idiot."

"Really?" he smiled.

"Yes. It's one of your finest qualities. And it's why you're going to help me." And with that she pecked his cheek and ascended the girls' stairs.

Remus was left stranded at the foot of the stairs tormented by indecision. He knew he had to help Ella, not only to apologise, but because he couldn't say no. Not to friends who accepted him, which, it distressed Remus to acknowledge, was what got him into this mess in the first place. He had no choice but to blunder on following the unstoppable train of Ella's goodwill even though he knew what was tied to the tracks. Her excited glee at the thought of creating an impossibly happy solution was more terrifying than the most dastardly evil plot could ever hope to be. If Ella's interpretations of Laina were correct then her desperately good intentions were bound to crush her sister's feelings like a very well meaning, but also very heavy hammer. And he could do nothing about it.

* * *

Poor Remus, always trying to make everyone happy. I'm sorry that Sirius is still a jerk, but he will get better. As for the twins, I will explain what happened to them, and which twin is currently residing in Lupin's cottage, but you'll find out when Harry does. Which is later, muahahahaha! I want you to get to know them first...

Back in a few (fun-filled) days,

Sham.


	9. Ella's Plan

Perhaps a little clichéd in theme, but the principle generally works. I apologise that this chapter is a little hard to follow, it's certainly inferior in terms of writing quality, but as a guide – Ella and Laina look the alike – in fact the same, identical twins, anyone? – but their personalities are very different. This may not quite come across the way I've written some of the passages. I'm sorry, but I've re-worked them and re-worked them but they still don't seem to come out right. So pre-emptive sorry.

* * *

Sirius' dramatic change in attitude continued for the next few days, monitored carefully by James, Remus and Ella. Nor had it passed Laina by unnoticed, and as Sirius slyly helped her in class or paid her small compliments her puzzlement and suspicion grew. However, Remus could now see beneath the façade and now her hidden pleasure was also obvious to him. As easily as one can see the trick once its secret has been revealed Remus noticed with mounting concern the small smiles of flattery, or the twinkle of delight in Laina's eyes beneath her carefully distanced mask of distrust. 

However, she was not giving in, and as Ella's frustration increased, Remus' hope did in tandem. So far Ella had been unable to find a way in which to convince her sister to return Sirius' newly developed affections, and Remus prayed fervently that this would continue until the end of term and the terrible deal's deadline. True, Sirius' pride would be hurt, but a bruised ego would be better than a broken heart.

The penultimate day arrived, and to both James' and Remus' delight Sirius had still made no progress in his pursuit of Laina.

"Still not thawed the ice-queen?" teased James at Sirius' retreating back as he headed to the Great Hall for dinner. Sirius' reply was indistinguishable over his thundering steps, but there was no doubt it consisted of an interesting collection of swear words.

James laughed as he lifted himself from his untidy bed and the three remaining Marauders headed too for the stairs but Remus was surprised to his progress barred by a very excited Ella.

"Remus, I need to talk to you," she grinned from the doorway.

James smirked, "We'll go on ahead Moony. Give you some private time." His eyebrows waggled obscenely at the mention of 'private time' and he and Peter could be heard snickering all the way down the stairs.

Remus, however, was too worried to be embarrassed by his friends, and his fears were confirmed as Ella bounded into the room.

"I've figured it out!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Figured what?"

"Don't be silly," she rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, "You know what I'm talking about."

Remus sighed resignedly; he knew with dreadful certainty what she was talking about.

"It's so simple. All this time I was thinking about how I could make Laina admit she liked him, but why do I have to do that? _I_ can do it!"

"You can do what?" Remus asked half-heartedly, purposefully misinterpreting to guide her away from her crazy plan, "Admit _you_ like him?"

"You're really not helping," she pouted, but it seemed Ella could never keep a cheerful grin from her face for long, "I can pretend to be Laina, and get her feelings out in the open for her!"

Remus frowned, and decided to protest where it would hit her hardest. "But isn't that immoral? Spilling people's secrets? It's an inexcusable breach of free will. It isn't fair."

This time the smile was drowned for a record three seconds before she replied. "It's OK when the end justifies the means. A happy ending makes up for trials on the way. It's how life works."

Remus gaped in disbelief at what she was saying. The naivety of her statement was beautiful, but also the most achingly depressing thing he'd ever heard. It sounded so innocent that Remus could barely stand to defy it.

"It isn't. I'm sorry, but it's not how life works." He managed.

Ella simply shrugged. "Well it should be. Plus," she continued, "how can it ever be how life works if people aren't willing to try to make it so?"

Remus was staggered. While he could vaguely see her point, it was suffocated by her irrational, yet obviously unshatterable, belief in happy endings. Remus knew all too well how much suffering and pain was in the world, with no rhyme or reason, and certainly no solution. Talk of the perfect resolution and dreams of happily ever afters were for comfort in the dark hours, but everyone knew that they remained firmly rooted in 'Once upon a time'. Remus knew this, but he could feel the incredible force of Ella's belief that would just smash its way through obstacles, he could almost see the optimism surrounding her and invading all she touched, and wondered if sometimes it would be impossible to resist being swept along with it.

Ella ignored his stunned silence and continued, "So, I've decided, I'm going to do it for her. All I have to do is make it so I look like her."

Remus wondered if he was going deaf, or even insane. Yes, that would explain it; the ridiculous plan was a figment of his imagination, thank heavens. The absurdity of her last comment just proved it. Not only were the DeMoitié girls identical twins, they were _identical _twins. Teachers had long since given up trying to tell the two apart and for the past five years had '_requested'_ that the girls sit on opposite sides of the classroom, which was how Remus had first properly met Ella, as she shyly left her the security of her sister's company and, clutching her books for protection and firmly looking away sat in an empty seat next to Remus. In personality the girls were polar opposites, Ella shy where Laina was outspoken, Laina's cynicism combated Ella's astounding idealism, but physically they seemed to have no differences at all. Laina's _reflection _was not as similar to her as Ella. Most people had to depend on the necklaces they wore – Remus had his suspicions that these were for the benefit of others rather than personal taste - miniature letters on thin silver chains; an E and L. That, and the fact that the one shouting almost certainly Laina.

He stuttered, "But, but - you're _twins_!"

"Doesn't mean we're the same person. Can I use your bathroom?" She didn't wait for an answer before swanning in with a large bag in hand.

Remus' attempts to dissuade her became increasingly more feeble. "What about dinner?" he asked.

The bathroom door was pushed slightly ajar and three muffins tossed at Remus. The door slammed shut and Remus had no choice but to sit and wait. Chewing disconsolately on his muffin Remus cursed himself for being a doormat, and then to pass the time while Ella crashed about in the bathroom he began to pack the clothing to take home that the others had missed.

He was busy fishing under Sirius' bed for a wayward sock when Ella emerged from the bathroom. As he shimmied out from under the bed he cracked his head on the four poster and cursed Sirius' untidiness. He looked through the spinning dots exploding before his eyes and studied the figure that raced towards him. He was astonished not only to discover that there _were_ differences between the twins, but more so because Ella had accounted for them. The most obvious difference was the change in clothing, which would explain the loud thumps and crashes from the bathroom as Ella attempted to switch trousers on the slippery tiles. Ella usually appeared the epitomy of comfort; frayed jeans, trainers on the brink of disintegration and jumpers large enough to contain a family of four were the staples of her extremely predictable wardrobe. Remus assumed that the low slung trousers and tighter T-shirt Ella was now fidgeting with were stolen directly from her sister, although her air of discomfort was all her own. As she bent down to help him from the ground, she batted the strands of hair that fell into her face. Locks that were usually swept from her face and imprisoned in a clasp were enjoying their new freedom, curling around Ella's face, rolling across her shoulders and breathing in the sunlight, reflecting golden the afternoon glow and rejoicing in the reckless abandon of Laina's style. As Remus stood, unsteadily, he looked into eyes that seemed wider - through makeup he assumed, although this shadowy branch of magic still remained a mystery to him - and observed the transformed figure. To all intents and purposes the shell of Laina had been stolen and adopted, but Remus smiled affectionately as he recognised the familiar tender concern in her eyes, and the nervous but sincere smile that so often played on Ella's lips. Remus remembered all the sayings debating the difference between the outside and the inside as the essence of Ella punctured giant holes in the façade of her sister.

Remus sat on Sirius' bed as Ella stepped away from him.

"How do I look?" she asked, chewing her lip again.

Remus couldn't decide on the best route, whether to tell Ella now that Sirius wouldn't fall for it or let her find out for herself, feeling guilty all the time both for his involvement in the plan and also for his efforts to thwart it. Ella, however, interpreted his conflicted silence correctly and made his decision for him, or rather shattered any choice he might have.

"Hold on," she said, and changed into Laina. That was the only way Remus could describe it. The alterations were minimal, but with only an adjustment of stance and shifting of expression Ella appeared to metamorphose into a completely different person. By standing up straighter Ella managed to pull an extra inches into service, which lent her the dominance and power usually exuded by her sibling; limbs abandoned their slouch and became controlled, their gestures expressive yet powerful. Laina had a far larger presence, aided by her full use of her height, and while Ella often attempted to camouflage herself with the wall, Laina, like Sirius, had an assertive air that demanded attention. Upon meeting Laina her personality was such that it filled all immediate space; Ella enjoyed the background, Laina _was _the foreground. Her attitude was big, but that was not to say bad; her personality varied from very nasty to extremely pleasant, but enormous fluctuations in temper meant that big could be the only constant. This trait was reflected in her facial expressions, which were always as extreme as her moods, and changed quicker than the breeze with just as much ease. Remus assumed that Ella had not only adopted the flickering features of her doppelganger, but also the rapidly altering tone of voice; as light and carefree as a laughing brook one moment, then harsh and terrifying as a thunderstorm the next. Remus reflected that Laina was very much like the weather, hot and fiery passion stolen directly from the sun, chill and snappy as ice at midnight, as light and easygoing as a spring breeze, or often a bad-tempered hurricane and a heart full of tears enough to flood a city. It seemed that all the emotion had been inherited by the one family member, as Ella's temper was as constant as a warm spring day, and just as unlikely to be disturbed by anything. No clouds of anger or depression threatened the skies, but nor did a storm of passion. Both twins were stable, but while Ella was steady as a line, Laina was stable like a gyroscope. Yet here the two totally different worlds had collided and –

"Well?" said Laina's face impatiently in Laina's voice. Ella took Remus' stunned silence as confirmation of her goal achieved.

"Good enough to fool that bloody idiot Sirius?" sneered Laina's voice in Laina's vocabulary. Remus could do nothing more than gape at the monstrous creation.

Ella smiled through for a moment, then Laina took over and the grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Come on then," Ella said, and remembering herself, or rather remembering someone else added, "you lazy sod." She headed to the door. "Sirius should be waiting by now."

Remus' mouth made useless fish motions before he managed to force a quiet croak, "What?"

"I sent Sirius a letter to meet me, or rather Laina, in the Common Room ten minutes after the start of dinner."

She nipped back to the floor length mirror and pulled a few faces to admire the finished effect. She gave a small 'Oh!' of alarm and her hand flew to her neck. She removed the silver chain from around her neck, the tiny 'E' glinting daintily in the candlelight.

"Not much I can do about this. Could you look after it for me?"

Remus tried to disguise his horror as she held the silver toward him. Even around her neck it worried him, but his apprehension mounted as the scarring metal dangled close to his exposed flesh. Mind racing, hindered by the proximity of the silver, he tried to think of an excuse to refuse her simple request that wouldn't give his condition away, but would avoid any contact with the dreaded metal. All he could manage were a few indistinguishable mutters before Ella gave up and threw the accursed thing into her bag.

"Doesn't matter. It'll be safe in there." She said, eyebrows raised at his strange behaviour and Remus felt a terrible unease bubble acidly in his stomach, fearing discovery at any moment. However, Ella quickly returned to the task in hand, "Come on, we have matchmaking to perform."

Remus was too relieved to even think of protesting and followed Ella-cum-Laina dejectedly from the dormitory. He was too concerned with his close encounter with exposure to notice the satisfied smile playing on the girl's lips as they descended the stairs.

* * *

"Wait," interrupted Harry, "You say that Ella had a necklace – that she never took off? Made of _silver_?"

Remus nodded, "The 'E'?" he prompted.

"Yes," Harry asked, "Didn't that make things a little difficult? In your - relationship, I mean?" He coughed, embarrassed at such a slyly intimate question, but his curiosity burned like the silver.

Remus raised an amused eyebrow. "Glad you asked. Well, before that day I had never seen her without it, but it's funny," he smiled mysteriously, "after that day she never put it back on. I could only guess that she must have lost it."

Harry could not be sure, but he thought for a moment that Remus had just treated him to one of Dumbledore's lightning winks.

* * *

Sigh, still on teen-drama. Not my area of expertise I'm afraid, but I'm looking forward to some angst further down the road. I'm so cruel. But this is what you're a-gettin' at the moment! 

Next update up soon,

Sham.


	10. Revelations

Hello children! I know it's been a while – but this chappie has been a long one indeedy and much of it I had to write from scratch. I'll apologise for clichés and confusing sentences at the end but for now, enjoy poor Remus' discomfort.

Remus squirmed uncomfortably as he squatted on the stairs. Despite his best efforts the cold wall refused to relent and mould around his form, and remained stubbornly solid. Ella had stationed him at the foot of the boy's staircase while she herself sat in Laina's customary place. Remus craned his neck around the wall and saw she was still perched, legs swinging, on the arm of one of the large sofas. Ella had explained to him that Laina claimed this to be more comfortable, but Remus could not see the point. It seemed to him that sofas were designed to be sat on comfortably, and their sheer essence of comfort was in the purpose-designed cushions. He felt that people who sat on the arms were probably just doing so for rebellion's sake. He had to admit though, that Ella certainly looked the part, kicking her heels against the sofa with a bored nonchalance that could out-Laina Laina. Which was the point, he supposed, considering that now there were two Lainas running round the school. Ella had assured Remus that the true Laina was busy sending a letter home from the Owlery - and even if she was seen by Sirius her true personality would be somewhat disguised by her robes - but he still felt that this plan had as many holes as Sirius' old socks, and would ultimately be of just as much use.

Ella looked at her watch – thirteen minutes had passed by since the start of dinner – and bit her lip nervously before Laina's persona re-asserted itself. She crossed her arms and glared at the portrait hole, as if blaming the motionless wood for Sirius' tardiness. Not for the first time Remus wondered what exactly Ella planned to do when – or if – Sirius stepped through the hole. She had spoken of 'getting things out in the open', but it had been such a long and painful process when she tried to confess to Remus her _actual_ feelings, he couldn't see how it would be any easier trying to reveal affection that she didn't even feel. As far as attempted seductions went, this tragic mess was already off to a terrible start.

Fifteen minutes. Remus' hope began to bloom, perhaps Sirius had already seen through the plan, when it was violently trodden on by the size twelves that stepped through the portrait hole. Remus pressed himself further into the shadows as he heard Ella, or rather Laina, say,

"Hello Sirius,"

"Sirius?" came the amused reply, "What happened to good old Black?"

"I could use arsehole if you prefer," came the snapped reply. Remus nearly swallowed his tongue, Ella would never say, nor even think, such a comeback. It was then he realised that under the mask of Laina, Ella found more freedom than she could have imagined.

Sirius rallied well, "No, Sirius will do nicely I think," there was a short pause, "Laina."

Remus tried to assess the tone in the air, although without observing the scene it was hard to tell. Ella had done well with the insult, and her façade was certainly convincing, but Sirius still sounded doubtful. However, Remus supposed, the very fact one of your known enemies had requested a secret rendezvous would probably be enough to raise suspicion.

"You know, I'm intrigued," came Sirius' sarcastic drawl, "Firstly, why now I am considered adequate company for the exclusive Laina DeMoitié, in private no less, and secondly, now that I'm here I am surprisingly free of hexes, much insult and, thankfully, projectile shoe hurling." Here Sirius' voice darkened and Remus knew that despite Sirius' seeming warming to Laina he was still fuming over the incident.

Ella's reply came silky smooth. "Would you prefer it the other way?"

Sirius' bark laugh was just a little too loud and a little too sharp. "You're right, probably not."

"Look Sirius," Remus heard soft footsteps as Ella walked slowly towards Sirius, "You've been acting weird towards me – for weird read nice – for over a week now." A catch of breath implied that Sirius wanted to interrupt but Ella continued regardless. "And I have to say, it's really not been too bad."

Here her voice was deeper and sultrier. Remus had to congratulate Ella, she could not sound less like herself if she tried. While she remained on the reality side of pantomime she was acting so differently to her usual shy retiring self that to Remus it was both farcical and scary.

There was a heavy pause, laden with tension, before Sirius replied, with a hint of amusement, "I'm not sure what you're trying to do, but nice try Ella. You do a good impression, but it's still not fooling me."

Ella managed to achieve just the right levels of surprise and indignation, "What do you mean?"

"A letter? Secret confessions? Private seductions? Not really Laina's style." Sirius scoffed.

"You think it's Ella's style?"

The silence that followed was filled with uncertainty, and Remus risked a peek into the scene. Ella was standing with her hands on her hips, lips pouting and eyebrows raised, looking for all the world like Laina. Sirius was standing three feet away with a small frown twisting his face. The tension was precariously balanced, Remus felt as though a single breath to disturb the air would tilt the scales. It felt like chess, the anxious moment before the move, where time stretched out like a taut nerve, ready to snap and switch victory one way or the other. But this was not chess, this was real life – although to Remus it felt a rather surreal version of life – there was no board, no markers, and worst of all, Remus did not know who had the next move. The smug grin that settled on Sirius' face told him that he had found the winning play.

Sirius moved toward Ella with cat-like menace until they were barely inches from each other, he grinning down, she glaring defiantly up into his eyes. His movement was slow and ominous, but his eyes contained the familiar superior yet playful sparkle that Sirius only wore when he thought he was one up on somebody. Which was quite often.

He looked down at Ella's face, which managed to retain its haughty glare, and grinned, "There are other things."

Remus could just see the raised eyebrow that requested to know these 'things'.

"OK," began Sirius, "You've done very well," Ella used Laina's wide range of expressions to scowl at his patronising comment, "but I'm afraid there are still some flaws. Number one; the _real_ Laina has a little kink in her hair right there" he brushed Ella's forehead in demonstration, and explained, "that apparently is the reason for any bad throws in Quidditch due to its stubborn refusal to stay out of her face." Sirius snickered and the self satisfaction in his voice would have sparked the real Laina's fists. "Number two; one scar here - " Sirius pointed to his own eyebrow, "from that Bludger in the Hufflepuff match last year. Three, another Quidditch scar from when she sliced her face with her own broom and was too proud to get it fixed up by Madam Pomfrey, which goes through – four – that little patch of freckles shaped like Cassiopeia, which I notice you don't have." As Sirius finished his smug smirk seemed to stretch beyond his ears.

Again the common room rang with shocked silence. Remus was certain that the puzzled and astounded expression on Ella's face mimicked his own.

Certain that the game was over Ella asked incredulously, "How the _hell _do you know all that?"

As she frowned at Sirius his smile began to slip from his face and re-surfaced on Ella's lips as he realised, too late, what he had revealed.

"You _like _her!" Ella squealed. Remus assumed her delight stemmed from the fact that she now had two willing matchmakee's, although that hadn't seemed to bother her much before.

Sirius did not reply, refusing to admit, but his guilty discomfort said more than enough.

"Why – I mean, when? How did this happen?" Ella stuttered excitedly.

Sirius sighed dejectedly and turned away.

It was a hopeless question, really. Why did he like her? If he couldn't even answer it himself how could he be expected to articulate it to anyone else?

She was pretty enough, but there were plenty of others more stunning than her – Sirius knew as he had enjoyed flings with most of them. Her ears pointed too sharply, her nose was small and snubbed compared to her large lips. Her frame was small, although her large attitude and fierce temper disguised this well, and her figure was slender and boyish.

However, all these flaws combined gave her a quality, perhaps not conventional beauty, but it gave her an ethereal air that he found just as appealing. He even found her attractive when her snub nose was wrinkled in disgust and her eyes narrowed, firing daggers at him.

In many ways he liked her unbridled anger toward him; he relished the fact that he could elicit such strong emotion from her, and took pleasure from the fact that most of her passion was reserved solely for him. It was refreshing to have such animosity directed toward him. Sirius knew that Remus often wanted to drag him from his pedestal that the rest of the student body so lovingly erected and for that he respected him, more than Remus knew, but the knowledge that Laina would willingly take an axe to his image filled him with a dangerous thrill.

Her capacity for such unrestrained emotion excited Sirius, and he found he longed to arouse some positive passion in Laina. He remembered with delight her ecstatic embrace after a spectacular Quidditch final, and her unrelenting sobs into his shoulder as James lifted the Cup for the fifth year in a row, but these bright moments were but starry pinpricks in a vast black sky of anger and aversion.

At first the challenge had excited him; her downright reluctance to adore him set her apart from his hordes of admirers and made her as tempting as the forbidden fruit. He longed for the thrill of the chase, but now he began to wonder if the hunt had even begun at all, or if it had whether it was not a vixen he was chasing, but a lion. He had been unsure of what to do with these unusual feelings and so had retreated behind a safe wall of antipathy. The more he felt, the further he withdrew into hostility, he feared for too long, and now it was likely he had backed off the playing field entirely. He had hidden his desire behind a wall of hatred, the sparks of anger between the two fuelling his secret passion, lighting his love with a myriad of emotion; desire, fury, frustration and admiration, and all the while shielding his true affection from invasion by others. Sirius had to concede that within this course of action there was an obvious flaw. He had succeeded in disguising his feelings from Laina by fuelling arguments and dislike between them, but on the negative side he had fuelled arguments and dislike between them, almost certainly ruining any chance a relationship would have had to develop. _Almost certainly._ Sirius kept that thought in mind. He may still have a chance, but this meant that he could never act upon his feelings. Rejection would crumble the prize in one cruel, swift motion. Whilst Sirius' thoughts remained private his longing would remain pure and untarnished and polished lovingly by hope.

Or so it was. Until, with his challenge, Prongs-the-Prat had unknowingly forced Sirius to make a choice he had long been keeping at bay. He could not refuse the contest, and not just to preserve his pride. Sirius was indeed competitive with James but he was not nearly as shallow as he knew some people believed him to be. It was more that refusing to accept would inevitably mean explaining _why_ and Sirius had no intention of revealing his innermost turmoil to anyone, not even James.

Sirius taunted James for his failure with Lily, even though he knew how deeply James felt about her, and here guilt plucked at his heartstrings like an incompetent violinist, he knew that _he _could not bear to have his personal torment be known, let alone flaunted and ridiculed in such a careless manner.

James could not have known the lifeline he had thrown Sirius when he had given him the choice of twins. Sirius was not stupid – he knew Laina would have been furious at such cavalier treatment of her sister, not to mention Ella's own reaction, but further hatred from Laina's quarter would have been more bearable than rejection. Bitterness could have been sweetened and while the tenuous possibility of returned affection would have been damaged, the slim thread of hope would not have been severed entirely.

But then Remus had extinguished that little glimmer of hope, yet, despite appearances, Sirius found he could not begrudge his friend his obvious happiness, although he still felt bitter. Not only had Remus created the terrible circumstance in which Sirius would have to face his overwhelming fear of denial, but Sirius felt the sharp sting of jealousy when faced with his friend's contentment. His success, compounded infinitely by the fact that his 'prize' was almost indistinguishable from his own object of affection served only to highlight Sirius' own impending failure and denial.

Said prize was now staring at him with an amazed intensity. Oh shit. He had thought that there was something dodgy about the note. He'd tried to guard his heart against hope, remind himself that he'd made no progress so far, even with his most trustworthy moves, and that such a meeting was unexpected and suspicious. He hated being right all the time. Oh shit. And now his arrogance had revealed his secret to the last person he wanted to know. Well, perhaps one of the last people along with Laina, James, Peter or – oh shit – Remus would be here, wouldn't he? Sure enough, a quick glance around the rest of the common room revealed a shaggy head peering round a shadowy corner, his own look of amazement being swiftly replaced by a guilty blush.

Shit shit shit. This could not be any worse. Later, Sirius reflected that this was the most stupid thing to think and probably spurred fate to implement what happened next.

"Sirius Black!" rang a furious voice from the portrait hole. "You absolute bastard!" Laina began to storm over to him, her usually blue eyes livid and black with rage.

As he saw Ella dart over to Remus out of the range of Laina's burning glare Sirius felt a dead lead weight flatten his heart and splinter his gut. He really was up Shit Creek and his paddles had just been decimated by alligators.

I know that this is all a bit too convenient to be true, but please bear with it, there are plot points it's important to. I haven't really got anything else to say in my A/N except thanks for reviews, they keep me warm and snugly in the long cold nights...


	11. Emotions

A/N: Wow! I think this may be about a sixth of the way through what I already have planned and we're not moving too slowly. Oh, and from last time, I don't mean to insult your intelligence, but in case anyone didn't know, Cassiopeia is a constellation shaped like a W – I don't know what it's supposed to be really – and I figure Sirius would pick out that shape in her freckles because he does Astronomy, and he's smart and bored enough to notice those kind of things. I'll give my little feedback comments at the bottom of here, but for now...

* * *

Both Ella and Remus pressed themselves firmly against the wall, as if bracing themselves for the harsh winds of fury that would soon be released. Ella's personality was certainly restored to her body; she bit her lip nervously and her fingers that were entwined with his were fidgeting impatiently. 

Her other hand was tapping her forehead impatiently and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She must have felt his puzzled gaze as her eyes opened and she explained,

"I'm trying to tell Laina what I know. But it's like she won't listen, I can't get her to feel it."

This did not go far to satisfy Remus. He raised a sceptical eyebrow as she continued,

"You don't have to believe me, but sometimes we can feel what the other thinks. I'm trying to send what we know, but she can't understand. Or doesn't want to." Ella added, and chewed on her lip thoughtfully.

Remus' brow frowned. He was beginning to worry that Ella was not as stable as he thought. All this talk of psychic connections and matchmaking crusades made the twin now venting at the top of her voice seem positively normal. He had never heard Laina this furious, she may have been small, but her voice and indignation could bulldoze mountains and seemed to cause the candlelight to shiver in fear.

- - -

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

Sirius bit back a sarcastic reply as Laina glowered at him, her fists twitching as though aching to hit him.

"Where do you get the idea that you're so great that you have the right to – to" her voice shook as she searched for the right word to convey exactly how she felt, "to _rape_ and exploit people's feelings for your own fun?"

Sirius tried to speak, but her voice and fury towered,

"For a _bet_ for fuck's sake!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sirius stuttered feebly.

The fiery wrath was smothered and replaced by a cold, hard bitterness.

"You really should tell your friends to watch what they say when people are in earshot," she said, icicles forming on her tongue and splintering the air.

Sirius cringed; he could imagine all too clearly James having a laugh at his expense a little too loud.

"Don't worry, they didn't mean for me to hear them. Even Potter and Pettigrew aren't cruel enough to stab their best friend in the back. Unlike you." She added venomously.

"What?" Sirius cried, outraged at the suggestion.

"What the hell was this sordid affair then? What were you doing in here, alone, with my sister, your best friend's girlfriend?" She spat the last three words with such disgust that Sirius could imagine the words poisoning the air and dissolving the floorboards. "That's low even for you."

Sirius felt the anger and indignation well inside him – it was her bloody sister's idea for this damn arrangement, and as for betraying Remus, that would be the last thing he'd ever do, friendship and loyalty were deeply ingrained in his soul. Her unfair accusations burned and ignited the familiar rage. It would be so easy just to descend into fighting again, feel the safety and release of anger and argument, but Sirius caught himself just in time. He forced himself to remain calm, things would be different now, now his secret was out in the open he would act upon it, and he quelled the piqued fire within. When he spoke his tone was gentle and placating.

"Look Laina, I know you're mad – but, you have to understand, well, it's not what it looked like. We were just – talking."

"What the hell would you condescend to speak to my lowly sister about?" Sarcasm ripped the question with vicious holes.

Honesty seemed to Sirius the only route to follow, daunting and unfamiliar though it was. Swallowing his pride and fears he managed, "You."

The fresh air of truth only whipped the flames of wrath into a higher frenzy. "Yes, that's right, isn't it? You tried to involve _me_ in this immature idea. Are you totally stupid?"

Sirius gave a non-committal shrug, hoping that Laina would interpret it how she wanted. His resolve to remain calm and composed was wavering dangerously; Laina roused an unusual lack of control in him that he found disturbing.

"You know," she sighed, and for a moment Sirius fancied he could hear regret hovering beneath the waves of resentment, "I was starting to think you weren't all that bad. That you might actually care enough to be nice to other people and respect their feelings. You almost had me convinced that there was a decent guy trapped under those layers of arrogance and selfishness. I guess I was stupid not to see the ulterior motive."

The punch was sudden and unexpected, but plenty of practice of defence as a Beater had given Sirius outstanding reflexes, and he caught the flying fist before it connected with his face. Had it hit its mark the blow would have been a sound one, the passion behind it giving it far more strength than mere muscle would allow.

"Now listen," hissed Sirius through gritted teeth, "This wasn't supposed to hurt anyone's feelings."

"No, I can imagine," the reply was quiet but the tone just as deadly. "Sirius Black has no feelings of his own, so it's not his fault if he does not recognise others and tramples all over them."

"I do have feelings." Was all Sirius could choke out in defence of this terrible statement. He now made no effort to contain his anger, his grip on the slender arm tightening in fury. Good, he thought, he'd show her emotion. Let the red outline of his fingers burn her skin and trace fevered lines of rage across the pale flesh as a mark of his anger.

Laina scoffed, and recognising where her opponent was weak twisted the knife further, "I didn't think a Black was capable of emotion," she snarled cruelly.

Sirius snapped. The jibes about his family, his inadequacy and his apparent callousness taunted his temper with stabs like hot pins until the beast could stand no more and his rage broke free. He wanted to snap the limb in his hand and cause her the pain that she inflicted on him. He longed to rip apart her feelings, tear her joy, contentment, and superiority into thousands of tiny glittering pieces and scatter them in front of a shattered soul. As he looked into the face glowering up at him he felt his pent up aggression overcome his feeble barriers and break free, roaring like a wild beast. Gripping the now trembling arm tighter Sirius did the only thing he could.

- - -

The silence concerned Remus. While the harsh accusations and insults flung carelessly between the pair made him red with discomfort and despondency, this empty silence was very worrying. Both were unpredictable and hot-blooded, an explosive combination that could go off in unexpected and dangerous ways. The quiet was a void, sucking at the air with a terrible tension. Remus peered apprehensively onto the scene and was terribly shocked to see what Sirius had done.

- - -

Keeping her arm clenched tightly to his chest Sirius pulled aggressively at Laina's bottom lip, forcing his mouth to hers in violent desperation. His other arm had snaked firmly around her waist, a handful of cloth grasped fiercely in his shaking fist, clasping her body to his in zealous possession. Laina herself made no effort to remove his arm from its suffocating embrace, nor eager lips from hers. Tongues explored with a manic fervour and lips locked together with raw passion hard enough to bruise. The release was wonderful; anger, resentment, frustration all abandoned into a whirlwind of crazed fervour that consumed him and poured its energy into the kiss, his whole being focused on a pair of lips that he clung to with a needy aggression.

Remus stared, and stared. And when he felt he'd stared enough he gaped a little as well. Ella, too, had strained her neck round the staircase to see what had grabbed his attention so fully, and now sat animatedly with both fists firmly stuffed in her mouth to prevent herself from squealing with delight.

His grip on her arm did not slacken, and he realised that her hands were still clenched into tight, vengeful fists. Without removing his lips from her Sirius searched for her fingers and teased them apart. Lacing their fingers he squeezed their hands palm to palm and felt the tension release; their hands fused together and Laina melted into him, allowing her body to mould to his shape until it became unclear where one clinging form ended and the other began. Laina freed a hand and entwined her thin fingers in his hair, the ivory digits shining through the silky ebony strands. As she caressed his hair she felt the swelling where her shot had connected a week before. The reminder of their previous animosity shocked her back to the present, and she tensed once more and pulled away.

"Is this just a part of the bet?" Her normally defiant eyes were now earnest and pleading.

Sirius smiled with relief, "It's a perk," he grinned.

"No Sirius," Laina tried to wriggle from his grasp but now that he had her in an embrace he'd be damned if he'd let her go. "I won't be just a way to get one over on James."

He caught both her struggling wrists in a firm grip and pulled her close so they were barely a breath away once more. "Fuck James," he said sincerely.

The delight washed over her face like the light breaking through after a storm. "Really?" she sighed and Sirius nodded, "'Cause that's kind of kinky." She added, a cheeky grin erupting on her flushed features.

Sirius let out a bark laugh and caught her mouth in his once more.

It was just a nearly deserted common room with the near-dusk light streaming in through the windows filling the dead air with sparkles of dust. There were no black and white close-ups or no orchestral climaxes, there were no thunderclaps or no fireworks. But there should have been.

They remained so resolutely stuck together for such a long time that Remus almost considered checking whether they were permanently stuck that way. However, he felt very uncomfortable spying on such a private moment, and when it became clear after a few minutes that Sirius and Laina were only just beginning to pick up steam Remus pulled Ella by the hand, who was transfixed with joy at the sight of such a positive outcome, and dragged her up the stairs. As they waited in the boy's room for movement downstairs the shy couple took the opportunity to have their own younger-rated version of the melodrama occurring below them.

* * *

The next afternoon the Marauders were sat in their usual cab on the Hogwarts train. Remus was sat opposite Peter and James, staring out of the window at the rolling fields, catching markers on the landscape, trees, stones, sheep, and fixing his gaze on them and they flew by and whipped out of sight. He was trying his best to ignore the socked feet that were twitching contentedly on his lap. Sirius was sprawled across the seat, his neck lolling off the wooden edge, arms hanging lazily, and, unfortunately, said feet making themselves comfortable on Remus' knees. 

"So let me make sure I understand this properly," James grinned evilly, his own legs up on the table, fidgeting in delight, "the famed Sirius Black, charmer of charmers, the charismatic king of copulation failed to convince somebody to go out with him."

Sirius made an indistinguishable grunting noise. He had not spoken to Laina since the unexpected, yet wonderful, events of the night before, but he had kept his promise and had purposefully lost the bet. While this meant Laina would accept him, it also meant that James would not keep his big trap shut about it for more than ten minutes at a time.

"Sorry Padfoot," James teased, "didn't quite catch that. I just wondered if I was correct in believing that you failed, as in, didn't manage it."

"Yes Prongs," growled Sirius, "you are right. You were right five minutes ago, you were right at dinner,"

"You were right this morning," chipped in Remus, who, at Sirius' request had kept his knowledge secret, but felt he had to defend his friend.

"In fact you've been right since I bloody admitted it, you _won _Prongs. And your prize is going to be my foot forcibly inserted into your arse if you don't shut up about it." Sirius finished.

Peter giggled, and James held his hands up in mock defeat. "I was just asking."

"You've been just asking for most of the damn trip Prongs, and, having got this far, I don't want the bother of having to explain to your parents why their only son is unfortunately in two pieces on the train lines."

"That hurts, Padfoot."

"I imagine it would."

"How far from the station are we?" piped up Peter, before the joking became more hostile.

"Five minutes," came the answer from the doorway as Ella stepped through, closely followed by Lily and Laina.

"Ladies," beamed James, opening his arms, "To what do we owe this wonderful pleasure?"

Lily rolled her eyes as Ella unfolded a small piece of parchment in her palm. Handing it to Remus, she blushed,

"My address, you know, for owls. If you want to." She added hastily.

The other three Marauders grinned as Remus took the paper with a mumbled "sure" and fiddled nervously with the parchment, trying to hide his pink cheeks behind the golden brown hair disguising his pleased eyes.

"No address for me Evans?" asked James holding his palm out beseechingly.

"I've got the address for 'Big-heads Anonymous' if that's of any use." Offered Lily scathingly before steering the girls back to their own compartment, shaking her head in a cascade of auburn curls.

"I think she's warming to you Prongs," grinned Sirius.

"I'd have thought you'd have learned your lesson Padfoot, since you yourself haven't done any -"

James couldn't complete his retort and Laina swept suddenly through the door and leaning down gave the partially upside down Sirius a brief, but full, kiss.

"Have a good summer," she smiled as she disappeared again.

The compartment was still silent as the train pulled into the station, James and Peter still staring gob smacked at the two grinning canines.

"Have a good summer," repeated Sirius as he heaved his luggage down the aisle wearing a grin that expanded beyond his face and brushed the clouds.

* * *

Yuck. I don't like that last line very much, but he's just very cheesily happy, OK? 

Right – since you're all wonderful and review, I think it's time I said thankyou, but 'cause my computer is being a pain in the jugular region I'll play it safe 'n' chat away with those who reviewed from chapter 9 onwards. Sorry to everyone else, but the crappiness of my computer is not to be underestimated, and give it more than two tasks to do it blows up:-

Mac1 – Hope I'm updating quick enough for you, I have a tendency to take my time.

Ian-malcolm – Lupin's by far my favourite character so through his eyes it's gonna be. But poor guy, he tends to get trampled on.

Tomato-can – I love your name. I did enjoy Leeds thanks – I had an AWESOME time (as usual) and as such have been filled with good cheer that is unfortunately dominating my story.

Phinea – You coined an excellent phrase – it's just so British. Oh, and I read one of your fics (Life in Crayon) but my comp won't allow me to reviewâ€ blocking pop-ups or some such crap, so just wanted to say

Really lovely yet haunting tone, loved it. Plus, it centred round something I'd never really given too much thought to which was refreshing.

Who was whose twisted reflection? – lovely line.

Dark-elf – I'm trying to update as soon as I can, but I type each one freshâ€ so my fingers are smokingâ€ but thanks.

Jenni Moon – Thankyou for loving my teen drama – I prefer to write satire or angst, as you can probably tell – but there'll be a little more teen drama to come first.

Trevor Bruttenholm – I can't help mixing humour in, it's a serious problem. I was going to try to make this totally serious, but I failed miserably as you can tell. Glad you like it though.

Abi Dragonfly – Glad you like it – I'm updating as fast as I can – I was up til 7am this morning writing some of this chappie!

Abesapien – I agree, I think Lupin is very similar to Dumbledore, I mean even in the obvious ways – kind, observant, a good teacher. And pessimistic of course. Poor guy, he has so much reason to be. But yes, I think your right – their essential Marauder-ness is their best quality – I can't ignore it.

Black Rider – I wish Rowling would show us more what's going on inside the Marauder's heads (or at least the remaining ones, sob) they're the best characters.

Ferrit – Your reviews always make me laugh – and they don't do any harm to my ego either. And lo, the Sham of Harga raised the document on high saying, take this the latest update of LCG and be thankful cos it took me a bloody long time to do. And hopefully there was much rejoicing (and reviewing).

My computer won't let me review so just to say I HAVE been reading

PrincessSkywalkerOrgana – Star Wars fan – you know I'd never have guessed!

Read your HP fic, sweet and one of my fave topics. I love the nicknames they have for each other.

Keran

Killing the last one

Meep! Well written – but I still get scared by the idea of our dear werewolf going! Why must he pass on, why?! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Ahem.

Will update soon – I promise.


	12. Letters

A/N: I'm still going! To all those worried about my over-commitment to this fic – please don't worry yourselves, I made you feel needlessly guilty. While it's true I have sometimes stayed up 'til 7 o'clock writing this thing, I didn't admit that I haven't actually got in tol after 5 on such nights... I have a discipline problem!

As for this chapter, I've given poor tired Lupin a rest from narrating and chosen just a little different style to bridge the gap from Year 5 to 6. As for the dates and subject choices, I've used the Harry Potter Lexicon to check such things are correct/possible. So if you find a problem or inconsistency, not my fault! Oh, and sorry for the Cheerio reference – it appeared in my head and stuck – the twins have a semi-Muggle background (will explain fully their familial situation soon), as does Remus and I think Cheerios were around in the 70s...

* * *

Harry did not know what time it was when he awoke, but glancing at the still jet black sky he guessed it was only in the very small numbers of the am. Rolling over in the double bed – he never failed to appreciate this luxury after his many years confined under the stairs – he tried to slip once again into the warm embrace of sleep. After several minutes of failing to drift off, his mind and limbs refusing to succumb to weariness, he rose and softly treaded downstairs to the kitchen. He was not sure if there was any truth to the belief that warm milk aided sleep, but it felt good to be doing something to help, and perhaps that was all that mattered. Lup – Remus had granted him total freedom in the house, with the exception of the cellar below. Harry understood the reasons without needing them explained to him. Lupin was struggling with expenses as it was, and due to the rarity of people talented enough to brew it, Wolfsbane potion was costly not to mention extremely difficult to get hold of, and Harry couldn't imagine Professor Snape performing such a favour for one of his worst enemies. Judging by the many bolts and bars on the heavy door leading below – and, Harry assumed, plenty of magical barriers – this would be the place that the lycanthrope would suffer the unhindered transformations. Harry had no desire to see such a place of agony and torment, even if Remus had suggested he could.

Cupping the steaming mug in his hand Harry felt the heat spreading through his fingers, warming his veins and infusing his body with a soothing comfort. Noticing the empty settee, Harry realised that his companion must still be overseeing the patient and padded up the staircase to offer him a cup of his own. He found the man asleep in his chair; fixed in the same post he had assigned himself to earlier that day. Harry could barely believe that the disruptive stranger had only made her grand arrival mere hours ago – having looked at the time on the Grandfather clock, a quarter past two, Harry estimated that she could not have been around for more than eight hours – and had caused so much frantic action and commotion without saying a word. In that time, with the brief exception of dinner, Remus had not moved from his vigilant watch, and Harry guessed he did not intend to for something as trivial as proper rest.

Harry felt fresh surges of pity as he noted the frown lines that clustered in worried groups on his friend's forehead and the thin, tight line of troubled lips. His fists, too, were tense and clenched, around, Harry noticed, several sheets of paper. The parchment was old, the neat writing faded and while the pages were in good condition given their obvious age, curling edges betrayed regular reading. One sheet had fallen to the floor and lay invitingly on the carpet. Intrigued, Harry tiptoed forward and picked the sheet from the floor.

A date in tiny writing headed the document, which Harry could now see was obviously a letter.

_20th August 1976_

_Dear Remus, _

_I know it's barely been a week since my last owl, but I'm so very bored and have nothing better to do. Oh, and I miss you, of course! While I'm very glad the weather's nice for you down in the sunny south, I'm afraid you're going to have to wring me out when I get back to school. Here in the Lake District the weather seems intent on making more lakes to add to our collection, we have a fine one developing in the back garden. As the weather's been so bad I've had no choice but to stay inside and practice my chess - you'll be glad to know I can now successfully outwit the lamp. Laina's in bed with the flu (in summer! I didn't know it was possible) – despite the bad weather she insisted on practicing Quidditch for hours on end. I think she's desperate to impress Sirius, but I don't dare say because every time I mention him she gets fidgety and snappy. Can't imagine why she wouldn't take his address, but thanks for offering. She seems more nervous about the mention of him than even before 'the events', and a nervous Laina is really difficult to cope with. What with being ill, results next week and the Sirius issue she's becoming unbearable – she's got as many clouds above her head as there are in the sky outside. Me and mum have considered moving out to the she until she gets over it all, but I won't let her being sulky ruin my summer, the perpetual clouds have that pleasure! Send an owl back and bring a little ray of sunshine into my life? Please? _

_Missing you lots,_

_Ella xxx_

Harry blushed at his intrusion of his friend's privacy, but his curiosity was too great, and despite what it did to the cat he allowed it to spur him on to read the sheets in Remus' hands. The top sheet was dated only a few days later than the paper from the floor.

_25th August 1976_

_Dear Brainiac,_

_Well done! I can't attach all the pages of congratulations that I'd like to because I don't want to weigh down Hagar and cause him to peck you to death so soon after getting more Os than a packet of Cheerios. You beat me in everything except DADA, but I'm pleased with E's in Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy and Astronomy. I'm surprised any of us got better than a D in Astronomy what with Sirius pointing out the Dog Star all the time – I dared mention that that was slightly irritating to Laina; I got a long tirade about pride and intelligence and spiritualism. I won't make that mistake again – she's so touchy whenever you mention his name, whether it's a good or bad comment. I managed As in Runes, Care of Magical Creatures (remember I told you about the Salamander incident? I still think it's unfair if I get both burned and marked-down) and I managed to scrape an A in Potions. Laina's annoyed because she only got a D. I told her a D wasn't so bad, so she said if it wasn't so bad I was welcome to shove it up my arse. She really is getting difficult – I think she's missing having Sirius to vent her aggression at. However, her As in everything else, as well as an O in Transfiguration!, have soothed her a bit. As has the new broomstick that mum got her. I got three terrific new books, which Laina say is _

Exactly what Laina said it was Harry could not find out, as the writing disappeared under Remus' hand. Instead, Harry's eye identified another letter in the same small, neat script, poking out from the rest of the sheaf. This was dated 1977, a year after the other letters.

_Dear Remus,_

_It really is getting miserable. Laina won't talk to me about it, but I can feel how mad and confused she is. How mad and confused I am. I wish you were here, I miss you so much. I want to hear your voice, see your smile, touch your hand, smell your hair, taste your lips and – _

Harry jumped with a guilty start at a sudden noise behind him. The bowl lying innocently on the floor behind him was miraculously unbroken, but Harry crouched to scoop up the pot pourri strewn on the floor as evidence of its mysterious fall from the dresser. Hurriedly restoring it to its rightful place, Harry turned his back on the offending ornament and checked it's disorderly descent had not woken patient or carer. The body in the bed was as lifeless as ever, and the noise seemed not to have woken Remus; the sleeping figure did not stir. However, when Harry returned to his side the papers in his hand were now in a tight coil and the letter from the floor has disappeared. Cheeks burning, Harry swiftly but silently left the room and slipped into his own bed, and into a deep milk and thrill induced sleep.

* * *

Sorry it's short, but more on the way.

Oh, and shameless plug: Do you like humour? Do you like Draco? Do you like diary irony? If you do then why not check out The Memoirs of Draco Malfoy, Study of a Genius by Sham Harga – it promises at least two of these things...

Just a random (and over-used, I know) idea that sparked my fingers. If anyone can check it out and give me feedback? If I continue it I want to know what people like...

Sham


	13. One step forward, two steps back

* * *

Hello! I'm still alive! So sorry for the delay – my computer broke and I've moved to University so it's all a bit hectic at the minute. But I have been writing still, and this chapter is a pretty long one. It's also a little random, so just for help I'll give you a few pointers...

"type in here" is speech, as usual. From any character.

'type in here' is Sirius' thoughts. That's right, he does have some!

_'type in here'_ is the thoughts of Libido (you'll understand). Technically Sirius' thoughts, too.

Oh, and a Jarvey is (according to the Hplexicon, where I check most of my info) a creature resembling an overgrown ferret hat can talk – although only in insults or rude speech. Quite like the idea of that.

I'll get on with the story, you guys have waited long enough...

* * *

Sirius' heels drummed an impatient beat on his stuffed suitcase. Where was James? It was early, he knew, but James was usually here. Sirius' parents liked to be at the platform before most other people arrived, the idea was to be able to glance haughtily at other parents and passengers, treating each to their own individual frown of contempt and superiority as they crossed the barrier. The superiority of their noble blood was evident by the fact they were on the station when you were not, which they somehow believed to contrive that they had special access and therefore more influence and better breeding. It was a ridiculous and arrogant ritual that Sirius despised, not least of all because it left him alone on the station. Not that the station was totally deserted, but when the choice of company was his family and their gossiping, egotistical clique (all Slytherins his mother never failed to remind him) Sirius was just as alienated. Where was James? James understood the situation perfectly, and since second year had made sure that he was also at the station obscenely early in order to give Sirius some much needed company, and distraction from the glares of disappointment shooting from the other end of the platform. Except today he wasn't here. There was a large James shaped hole at the station. The lack of a James where there should have been one made the loneliness of his situation worse than if Sirius had simply been on his own – then he would have been neutral, blank, zero, but now there was a negative to the power of James. Where the hell was he?

Sirius stared at the wall, willing James to burst through, full of smiles and apologies, but no amount of wishing produced a spectacled friend. Sirius gave up, and facing the motionless train heaved a defeated sigh. Every bone in his body insisted the cessation of searching should instantly produce his saviour, but the platform remained ungraced by James' prescence, in contempt of convention and cliché.

He risked a subversive glance at the pack of Slytherin parents and carnivorous offspring haunting the opposite end of the station. Like a pack of vultures, they glared haughtily down their beaks at anyone who dared encroach their private space – anywhere within a three-mile radius – but his mother's eyes were fixed on him. He glared defiantly at his feet, but he fancies he could still hear her bitter words from here. Sirius ... the traitor ... Sirius ... such a disappointment ... Sirius ... never amount to anything worth the pity of a house elf ... Sirius ...

"Sirius? Sirius?" James blew in his stiff friend's ear, hoping to dislodge whatever was stubbornly blocking his cries. "Sirius, you ignorant son of a Jarvey, are you there?"

Sirius snapped out of his gloom with a surprised thump as he hit the platform. The flushed face of James was grinning at him with the content grin of one who has just enjoyed pushing their best friend over and frightening them half to death.

"Back with us then? Sorry I'm late, we had to go back because I left my broomstick." Guilt assembled in dark clouds over James' smiling face as he looked over at the band of hyenas still prowling the platform.

"You what?" Sirius wished James could have picked a better excuse. Satan would have driven a snow plough through the fiery vistas of Hell before James forgot his broomstick. Snape washing his hair was more likely.

"I did," admitted James, his tortured face the image of a devout Methodist who has woken up with a hangover, a traffic cone, a lorry driver named Bill and, most importantly, without a Bible. "I had packed it, first thing I did," Sirius nodded here, this was James, he would come without clothing rather than without his Quiddich gear. "But then, I decided to get some extra practice in this morning and ... " here James cut off and fumbled with his jacket.

"And?" urged Sirius.

"Ilfitytshd" was the indistinguishable muttered response.

"Sorry Prongs, didn't catch that."

"I left it by the shed. Alright?" snapped James irritably.

All resentment to his late friend was instantly melted by the laughable discomfort of James betraying his life's purpose. Sirius' bark laugh rang through the air for the first time in over a month, and the tingle of mirth escaping his throat felt clean and good.

"Shut up." mumbled James, only half serious as he knew Sirius needed this relief. "I had to get the extra practice in."

"OK Prongs, I've shut up." snickered Sirius. A heavy silence indicated something more was expected from him. As he looked at James he saw the scruffy haired boy was bobbing excitedly up and down, and his lips were twitching as though he was barely managing to restrain words of joy.

"Oh," said Sirius, "Well done on getting captain, although there really was no surprise."

James' restless lips spread into a great, toothy grin. "I thought you had forgotten."

"How could I?" Although it had slipped Sirius' mind it was bewildering how it could have. Every owl that managed to reach Sirius past his family's censorship contained the same three magic words. 'I'm Quidditch Captain.' The little badge was already pinned to James' chest gleaming and winking in the last scraps of summer sunshine. Sirius looked for the equally tended and polished broomstick, but it was nowhere to be seen. In fact, James was empty handed.

"Prongs? I think you may be missing a few effects. Like an entire years worth of luggage? Broomstick included – again."

James smiled and nodded to the barrier through which a smiling Mr and Mrs Potter were passing, bags, and broomstick, in hand. "I rushed on ahead to make sure you were OK."

"Well thanks, and I am," said Sirius, as a cold pressure on his back reminded him that he was still sprawled on the floor. "I don't suppose you fancy helping me up here do you?"

James grasped his extended hand and pulled his friend to his feet. Sirius was about to pull his hand from his grip when James pulled him into a tight hug.

"Good to see you again, you stupid mutt."

Sirius nudged the bespectacled boy playfully as he lifted his bags and arranged them carefully under his arms, in his hands and balanced precariously on his shoulders. James finished saying goodbye to his parents and returned the gesture with a well placed knee to the back. As Sirius shoulder barged James onto the train he knew he was going home.

............

The train was still motionless in the station as the toilet door swung shut behind Sirius. He was about to whistle his traditional post-urine melody in three parts when the presence of another person in the corridor caused the embarrassing tune to die in his mouth and crawl back down into his lungs.

His heart played pinball in his chest as he recognised the unruly mane of dark blonde hair in the train doorway. Laina was turning the air blue with curse words as she straddled the gap between train and platform, struggling with a bag twice her own size.

"Need a hand?" Sirius asked. However, the actual words came out more like a hoarse squeak. Sirius thought this unusual, but blamed the fact he had spoken very little this morning.

"Need a hand?" he repeated. Laina's head snapped up, her cheeks were flushed with frustration and her eyes glinted with anger and defiance.

"No." came the short answer.

Taken aback by such a hostile reply Sirius raised his hands in mock fear. "Sorry, just asking." he remarked.

While Laina would never dream of apologising, a slight flicker of guilt was allowed a quick flicker across her hassled features. "I mean, I can do this stuff on my own."

This assertion was betrayed as she returned to pulling at the suitcase, but to no avail.

Sirius smiled at the stubbornness, and grasped the handles despite an angry grunt from Laina.

"It's fine," she growled, fiercely attempting to guard her independence and snarling at those who dared to try to snatch it from her.

"I'm sure it is," Sirius grinned, "And while I agree it looks wonderful positioned here, I wonder perhaps if it might look even better here."

Sirius hefted the bag fully onto the train. He had planned to lift it easily, giving Laina a perfect opportunity to marvel at his muscled honed by intensive Quidditch practice and admire his intense masculinity. However, the bag was exceedingly heavy, and he didn't manage the transfer with quite the ease and finesse he had hoped for, instead he made some rather unattractive grunting noises he would rather were erased from existence. Laina did not seem to be impressed, and rather looked scandalised at this invasion on self-reliance, her small hand still fiercely gripping the bag as though it were an incarnation of her independence.

_'Don't worry about it. You've been charming and gracious, she can't ask for more.' _a small voice piped up from the recesses of Sirius' brain.

'What the hell?' he thought, disturbed by the intrusion

_'I'm your sex drive, your charm, your attraction. Name's Libido, to my friends._ _Here to help you with this romantic dilemma you find yourself in.'_

'What romantic dilemma?'

_'The fact the girl you think you thought you had in the bag does not seem too happy to see you.'_

"Thanks," Laina said, grudgingly, the very word sounding forced and unwanted. She did not want to thank anyone. Not through being ungrateful, but rather she did not want to be in a position where she owed anyone thanks.

"No problem." said Sirius. He scrabbled for words to say next.

_'And because you seem to be having problems communicating yourself. I though you liked the girl?'_

'I do. Sort of. She's alright.' Sirius thought, refusing to admit even to himself any strong feeling for anyone. That would be weak, and leave him open to disappointment.

Laina began to fidget. The silence in the carriage was uncomfortable and restless.

_'Come on, say something. Really, this has never bothered you before.'_

"Did you have a good summer?" asked Sirius lamely, her parting words still floating round his head, where they had echoed for the entire holiday.

"It was OK," said Laina, distractedly. Sirius wished she'd stop re-arranging her hair, she was pulling it out from its disorder agitatedly whilst subtly fiddling with her clothing. Sirius didn't know why she was doing it, but it was making him nervous, an emotion so unusual he didn't like it and didn't know what to do with it.

_'Hello?' waved his libido, 'Boring. Say something sexy, winning, charming.' _Sirius found hat a mental picture attached itself to the voice, his face, his body, but black clothes and sunglasses even in the dark completed by a cocky grin of the unfazed and self-assured. He probably had a really posh car too, with tinted windows. _'You do realise you've been silent for 12 seconds? That's officially an awkward silence.'_

Sirius forced his mouth into gear. "If you ever need anything else carrying for you, you know where to find me."

_'Lame.' Libido rolled his eyes behind shaded lenses. 'What happened to your famous charm. At least give her the 'grin'. That should make up for some of this appalling mess.'_

Sirius did as he was told and unleashed the 'grin'. The 'grin' deserved the speech marks, they encased it, providing a cage for the protection of others. The 'grin' was Sirius' party trick; when unleashed nobody was safe. Friendly, charming and just the right hint of upper-class arrogance; if bottled the grin's powers would be explosive.

But Laina just ignored it and continued to fiddle irritably with her collar, pulling it down into a more pleasing shape and gripping her bag expectantly.

Sirius was staggered. Even people who barely knew him, or knew him too well, could never resist making a suggestive comment after the grin. But Laina still just stood there, radiating nervousness, irritation and above all, discomfort. This welled up into a void of silence, clawing for words to break it; but none came.

"Well ... thanks ... I'll see you later ... I guess."

_'Idiot. Idiot!' _cried his libido._ 'There were three points for interruption, three gaping holes of silence begging for words and yet you're still silent with a lead tongue blocking your usually unstoppable mouth. Talk. It's a simple function – open your mouth and let the words flow. Preferably smart or witty ones.'_

_'Still not speaking? OK, any words. And damn thing at all.'_

"Yeah, sure"

_'Right – well done. Continued contact. Now -'_

"OK". The words stole into the air so timidly Sirius barely caught them as Laina turned towards the door.

_'Stop her! Idiot, reach out ...'_

To Sirius' relief his lazy neurones fired with life and provided the basic motor functions necessary to allow him to stretch his heavy arm out and block Laina's path.

'So now what?' he asked internally.

His libido shrugged metaphorical shoulders. _'I hadn't thought this far, you normally manage well enough on your own.'_

The moment stretched like his arm, tense and wavering. Laina looked expectantly at the hovering limb in front of her but made no move herself to encourage or remove the offending appendage.

_'OK, I've come up with some action plans:-_

_1. Stop her, kiss her and tell her that you're quite keen to ravish her on the compartment floor.'_

'No – too many opportunities for embarrassment, or being kneed in the bollocks. And anyway, this floor's hard and cold.'

_'Alright,_

_2. Wait for **her **to make a move – you've made yours.'_

'She's not making one though, and I've been stood like this for too long. Quick, I'm starting to look stupid – I need a third option.'

_'Well...'_

Shifting slightly and grinning helpfully Sirius placed his palm to the door and pushed it open.

"Here you go."

Laina nodded her thanks, but as she heaved her heavy bag through the opening Sirius saw a distinct look of disappointment blight her face.

_'There! You saw that expression! Call her back!'_

'And do what?'

_'Ask if she wants to meet up somewhere. Ask if she wants to do something Forbidden in the Forest.'_

'No! That's terrible. It's so cheesy, it would never work.'

_'It did, Jane Trough. April. A saturday night.'_

'Oh yeah.' Sirius and his libido shared a fond recollection of warm spring nights and the ample cover of trees before snapping back to the present attempted conquest.

_'Not that then, but just ask her. Use your reserves of wit and charm.' _

'Can't. They've dried up. Gone away.' moaned Sirius unhelpfully.

_'So will your chance if you don't hurry.'_

The door was swinging shut, severing the opportunity and it slid softly but surely into place.

"Hey Laina." his strained vocal chords finally managed but his only reply was the quiet but final click of the door, and a unsettling jolt that signalled the beginning of the journey.

Shoulders drooping dejectedly, Sirius turned to return to the Marauder's compartment. He banged his knuckles in a frustrated beat against the walls. At the end of last year he felt he had finally made some progress, in fact he had congratulated himself on a positive leap forward, but now – well now it felt like he had advanced in the wrong direction.

His libido was extremely puzzled. _'It's not your fault,'_ he consoled _'you did everything you could. You initiated contact, did the charming, valiant gentleman act – even the grin.' _His libido was shocked and continued, scandalised, _'someone is immune to the grin!'_

Sirius ignored the inner voice the best he could, although he couldn't help but silently agree with the irritating idiot. He _had _tried, he had done all that could be expected of him. If Laina wasn't biting the readily provided bait then he would be damned if it was going to be his loss. He remembered the disappointment etched on her unusually unresponsive features and decided she could well be disappointed. She had herself to be disappointed in, he'd given her plenty of opportunities and if she wasn't going to make the effort then it mattered little to Sirius Black, did she think he was going to do all the chasing? She could have even got in contact over the summer if she'd wanted to – he knew she could have easily got his address from Remus.

_' Erm, it may be said, in all fairness, that the same applies to you,' ventured a treacherous tentative voice as his objectivity nervously stepped forward, 'if you weren't so ner -'_

The weak voice was halted terminally as his body was flattened by his libido and his sleek black Lambourghini. Sirius shook his head. It was getting crowded in there.

Last year he had found her challenge exciting, but to come this far and stall? Well, that was just irritating. The Black sense of pride rose in his chest, he wouldn't do any more running around. Why did Laina think she was so special that he had to make all the effort? There were plenty more fish in the sea willing to swim into his highly attractive net. Sirius shoved a compartment door aside and nearly sent a petite girl torpedoing in the other direction.

"Oh!" the small cry of alarm was light and sweet, marshmallow tones of surprise.

Sirius stepped back and smiled as he recognised (_quite intimately recognised _grinned Libido) the owner of the melodic voice as an extremely pretty fifth year – Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, he couldn't quite remember – Fiona Heath.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, smiling sweetly and batting long, thick lashes. Her whole stance radiated shy embarrassment, but in such an accurate manner that Sirius easily saw through the facade with an experienced eye. He almost scoffed at how obvious she appeared to him, but big hazel eyes and rippling brown locks caused him to reconsider.

As he released the grin for the second time in a morning he was pleased to see its desired effect; a slight pink in soft cheeks and an increase in the action of eyelashes were the only encouragement he needed. It was amazing how naturally flirting came, as simple as breathing; a smile here, slight contact _there_ and the girl's knees were weaker than American beer.

He needed no instruction from his libido, or sex drive, or anyone now, as with a practiced ease he angled himself so his back was against the wall and gestured for her to pass. Of course this would mean passing him, too, and his body was positioned so that while he allowed Fiona passage, the way wasn't entirely unobstructed by his body. The maximum amount of courtesy with the maximum amount of touch. Sirius was sure in his own mind which was the most important.

The false embarrassment surfaced once more. "Thankyou," she giggled, "so polite."

"It's beauty's privilege." Her pretty nose wrinkled prettily, crumpling pretty freckles as she tried to establish this as a compliment.

Not Ravenclaw then, sneered Sirius. He ignored the surge of contempt and focused instead on chestnut curls bobbing daintily by at chin height. As he inhaled a hint of vanilla he pondered whether it would be too much to find her hand as she passed, then fate threw him a golden opportunity, or rather the jerk of the train taking a corner threw the unstable, but willing, Fiona into his ready arms.

"Wow," said the younger girl, grinning openly now, pulling away form his chest, but not his embrace, "Great reflexes."

"Qudditch," shrugged Sirius, in the carefree modest tone that only the naturally arrogant can achieve, "You should come watch sometime."

"I will," she promised. "I heard you're really good with your broomstick." She added, all pretence at coyness thrown out the window at the last bend.

This was just too easy. To think he was even slightly concerned by Laina's response, or rather, lack of it. She could remain a stuck-up bitch if she felt so inclined – it made no difference to him. Not even at Hogwarts yet and he already had as good as a date, an achievement even for him.

"Sorry as I am that I must cut short this wonderful encounter in this extremely romantic setting," Sirius gave a small chuckle but the irony was lost on his cabin companion, who just smiled faintly – but prettily -, "but I really should head ..."

"Sirius?" His excuse was cut short by the appearance of Remus at the end of the cab.

"See you soon," she whispered as she continued walking in the direction she had headed before her path was blocked by a walking ball of charisma.

Encouraged by his an elated Libido, who was busy doing backflips in his hindbrain, he decided he timing was right to treat the fortunate girl to a quick wink before turning to face his friend who had advanced to his side.

"Moony," he nodded in cheerful greeting, "what brings you to this fine part of the train?"

Remus' made no remark regarding Fiona, and his face remained impassive about the scene he had just witnessed. Sirius had always found that intriguing about Remus; his face never betrayed the complex thoughts and feelings sliding through the cogs of his mind. Despite trauma, torment and torturing pain that plagued his friend's life Sirius had never once heard him complain, never heard his voice raised above it's gentle, carefully calculated tone and never, ever seen him cry. Of course, no boy cried, boys _didn't _cry, but everybody lost control and 'let go' every once in a while. Peter, stifled by an overwhelming fear of physical pain shed ashamed tears regularly after 'accidents' – self inflicted or otherwise, James rarely cried, but distressing circumstances overwhelmed even a man's man; the death of a grandparent, breaking his arm in a broom accident or losing a game of Quidditch. Sirius himself had once 'got something in my eye' after a particularly bad summer at home, when Remus had been there to console him and offer words of encouragement – oddly these words of advice had nothing to do with 'wash your fingers before you touch it' or 'blink rapidly'. Oh, James had helped, with his uncanny knack for finding just the right thing to make Sirius laugh, but when it came to listening no-one beat Remus. James would try, but you both knew he was listening in an attempt to make you better and help you get over it, an absolutely noble intention, but when Remus listened he _listened. _You were free to stutter, repeat, digress and wallow – none of it mattered but that you were talking and releasing the feelings that had been locked away and devouring you from the inside. For the time you were talking you were the centre of the universe, you _were _the universe, nothing mattered but you, for that moment to Remus you were everything and anything, just you and Remus, the gravity that held you together and stopped you spinning off in random directions. In fact, Remus was always there to comfort and advise, but never requested anything himself. He would not allow himself a moment of weakness, to expose himself purely and completely to another person, or perhaps, Sirius mused, he feared that that moment of weakness would stretch and expand and dominate his entire life. So Remus Lupin kept himself firmly out of sight, behind a solid wall of amicable, but indecipherable expression.

"Don't worry," said Remus, puzzled by the intensity of Sirius' gaze on him, "I'm not stalking you. I've got this," he pointed to the silver badge pinned to his jumper, "remember?"

Ah yes, Sirius remembered. The prefect's compartment. Sirius knew Remus was proud of his position, showing as it did Dumbledore's continued faith in what Remus still considered a dubious, yet wonderful, action of accepting the werewolf five years previously. However, Remus always spent as little time as possible in such meetings; loathe to leave his friends. He detested the separation from his friend's, fearing anything that singled him out from the group, and made him ... different.

"I did hope I'd find you though." Remus continued, "We were getting worried that you'd fallen from the train or something equally stupid. And typical."

"No, nothing that exciting, I was just chatting to a friend," Sirius grinned and tipped Remus a conspiritorial wink. Remus face was as blank as clear blackboard, however, Sirius fancied that at this the veil flickered. As previous scribbling, almost all removed, can leave cryptic traces of dust on a blackboard, so one slightly raised eyebrow revealed his surprise at Sirius' intimacy with another girl without resolving the Laina matter first.

"Well," Remus replied, poker face sidling back in as though pretending it had never left, "I'd better hurry up. Have fun." He waved back at Sirius as he disappeared through further doors.

"I intend to," promised Sirius, to himself, the world at large and spitefully to the girl who had her shot and ruined it.

* * *

Oh dear, we appear to have taken a few steps backward. It's necessary to try to capture the awkward, fumbling nature of fancying someone and not being able to say 'cause you're so crippled by fear. Sigh, I'm getting luckier in love but I do know how that feels. Anyway, got my laptop now, so next update should be a lot sooner.

R&R if anyone's still there!

Sham


	14. Origami People

Well, this is another long one... with plenty of canon detail needing explaining at the beginning...

Right – James' position in Quidditch. I did my research on this. I always assumed he was Seeker for two reasons:- 1) the film said so (but I am inclined to ignore the films) and 2) he is excellent at catching the snitch, which would imply practicing for Seeker duties. However, I found out from an interview with JKR that he played as Chaser. Now I know that interviews don't have to be regarded as canon fact, but I like the fact that father and son aren't exactly the same. So James is Chaser? OK? Oh, and I can't find anywhere that refutes Sirius being a player also, so ner. He is. And he's a Beater. I understand that you don't have to be athletic to be as popular as Sirius obviously is but he can be if he wants to be.

Sorry – I had written the following Harry/Lupin bit, but forgot to add it in to chapter 13 – I was so glad to have a computer again. So I've just tweaked it and placed it here. Apologies if the story is difficult to weave. It's hard to keep on top of the many changing threads and perspectives.

* * *

Harry rinsed the final breakfast plate impatiently. No mention had been made of the events of the previous night, the words 'letters' or 'nosy' or 'intrusion' never poisoned the air; in fact Lupin had appeared totally oblivious to any such occurrence, which was the only way Harry could be truly sure he _did_ know about his transgression. Lupin had very carefully ignored the whole episode, and had attempted to further sate Harry's appetite for stories with the hurried account of the train journey over breakfast. Lupin had seemed determined to skip all meals in favour of his attentive duty as carer, but after seeing the trouble that Harry had taken to provide a full British fry-up (choice of eggs – slimy scrambled and rubber fried – pink sausages and blackened bacon from _somewhere_ on a pig and charred toast all accompanying the main dish of Heinz baked beans) he graciously accepted the offering, and gave his other charge as much time and attention he felt he could afford before darting back up to the infirmary.

Drying his hands, Harry brushed the remaining crumbs off the table and treaded the familiar path up the stairs. He was frustrated; he could understand his godfather's confusion. Girls were an alternate species, with a different language where yes meant no, or vice versa, they had different thought processes requiring an interpreter to figure out what the hell they wanted. Sirius' troubles reminded him so much of his disaster with Cho, although it comforted him a little to know that his godfather also had the occasional trouble with the opposite sex. Harry wondered whether there was actually a point to the whole relationship business, whether it wasn't just a load of unnecessary hassle and bother in which your heart and mind were cruelly ripped in different directions and expected to jump over obstacles that you couldn't even see. What, when you came down to it, was the point?

Harry's bitter musings brought him to the landing, where the soft voice of Lupin could be heard pleading through the doorway. Here Harry found 'the point'.

"I love you," came the quiet confession, in hushed tones as though the speaker was ashamed to admit something so personal to the world. "I never said it enough, but I did. I do. I do love you." A defeated sigh made Harry's ears pink with embarrassment at once more being the intruder of private thoughts. "Wake up," here the voice faltered, and took a few breaths to steady itself, "wake up and I'll tell you every day. Just come back and I'll do anything."

Harry tried to back down the stairs, but a creaky floorboard betrayed his presence. The voice changed immediately; the desperate, pleading whisper was replaced by the usual friendly call of his ex-teacher.

"You don't have to be a draught-excluder Harry, come in." Harry did so. "Keen for more?"

Harry nodded, and desperately wished his cheeks would stop flaming.

"If only everyone was such an attentive listener, lessons would have been much easier." Lupin smiled the easy smile of the unruffled, and squeezing the prone figure's fingers in his own, began his story once more.

* * *

Sirius sat distractedly through the Sorting Hat's song, and cheered or jeered (whichever was appropriate) impatiently as the nervous first years, whose heads could barely peep above the long tables, were sorted into the four houses.

Throughout Dumbledore's welcome speech Remus caught Sirius and James exchange several furtive glances and was filled with a deep sense of foreboding. Accurately, as it transpired.

They were barely into the feast when screams erupted from all four tables. Remus looked up from his potatoes to see a large brown bubble bobbing past his face. Such bubbles seemed to have invaded the entire hall, and were currently attacking several students. Their efforts seemed to be concentrated on the Slytherin table where a particularly vicious gang of football size bubbles had backed Severus Snape against the wall and were pummelling him into submission. Several other Slytherins were suffering a similar fate as the tough, sludge coloured spheres prowled the table, in a strangely menacing bounding motion. A brave contingent from Ravenclaw were battling with the strange orbs, but their tough skin seemed impermeable to popping spells or even sharp jabs with wands waved around like makeshift swords. Over at the Hufflepuff table a small panic had erupted as some more vicious bubbles had encased the heads of a group of fourth years. Remus punched away a keen bubble and stared at James and Sirius, who were both in hysterics. They were leaning against each other, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable laughter, seemingly unaffected by the plague of coffee-coloured bubbles upsetting the rest of the school.

"What the hell is this?" Remus demanded, half in annoyance, half in awe.

Sirius extended a quivering digit to the gravy boat, which was issuing forth streams of the bubbles. James caught Remus' disbelieving gaze and burst into fresh giggles.

Remus stared at the commotion in the hall; the bubbles were beginning to get out of control. Snivellus was now sprawled on the floor, and the Ravenclaw troupe's wands were being knocked everywhere by the mutant gravy bubbles.

"Very funny," he said, not totally dishonestly, "but you have to stop it." Peter gave a small squeak from Remus' left as a zeppelin bubble dive-bombed him off his seat. To his right, Ella and Lily were faring no better as an army of knut sized bubbles surrounded them, swarming all over their hands and faces. Laina was desperately trying to help the two, while trying in vain to stamp on the puppy-sized bubble that had developed an attraction to her ankle.

Remus batted a floating ball at Sirius' head. The teachers were not looking amused, with the exception of Dumbledore, who was watching the commotion with an air of mild interest.

"Really, you have to stop it."

Still giggling, holding his side in pain, Sirius glanced at James – who had laughed so hard he was ready to slide off his seat – and nodded. He reached for his wand, but before he had chance to say the incantation the commotion ceased. Bubbles popped, or floated nonchalantly back to the gravy boats, which re-filled quickly and began to steam once again. James stopped giggling and looked around, puzzled.

"Who did that?" He looked quizzically at Sirius, who merely shrugged, bemused.

Remus had a fair idea, as Dumbledore innocently requested that they recommenced eating, and his suspicions were confirmed as Sirius and James attempted to tuck into a well-earned meal.

"What the - ?" Sirius' voice rang around the hall.

James, too, was staring open-mouthed at his plate. The chicken and ham pie he had been generously spooning himself was still there and intact, but had turned a disgusting, filthy yellow colour. It appeared like food post-vomit. Sirius was suffering, too, his new potatoes a rancid green and his carrots looked like they had been dipped in old blood.

James grabbed a baked potato, but the minute he touched it vile orange tinge coloured the entire potato. Sirius spooned some peas onto his plate, which, when they arrived there remained totally unchanged. Except they were now a bruised violet colour.

Remus snorted into his water. He looked from his gobsmacked friends, to their plates, to Dumbledore (who seemed totally oblivious to anything out of the ordinary) and back to the gaping faces of Sirius and James. Their food was exactly the same as everyone else's, with the slight problem that everything they touched suddenly became a totally different and utterly revolting colour.

"King Midas." Laughed Remus.

"Midas yourself," snapped Sirius, his grasp of legend rustier than Remus' and therefore unaware of the relevance of the reference.

James, whose appetite was insatiable despite his remaining skinnier than a rake, had begun to tentatively try his food. Discovering that only the colour had been affected, he began to tuck in with renewed vigour.

"Try it Padfoot," he mumbled, between mouthfuls of potato, "it's fine."

Sirius wrinkled his nose. "I have no desire to eat anything that is the same colour as your socks at the end of the month," he assured his gorging friend.

"Your loss," shrugged James, shovelling Sirius' rusty carrots onto his plate. As James devoured the odd food Remus chuckled into his green peas and orange carrot and pink ham as Sirius looked on hungrily.

xxx

Sirius was still grumbling when they left the Great Hall.

"I don't see why it mattered what colour it was," said James, who had fully enjoyed his peculiar grub, "it's all the same on the inside."

"That was the problem," complained Sirius, "those vegetables looked like they'd _already _been inside, then forcefully made their way out again."

Remus waited for James to make a sardonic remark, but the boy's attention was elsewhere.

"Hang on a minute." James dashed off to collar a surprised Dumbledore.

"I hope he gives him what for," growled Sirius, "that wasn't funny."

Remus had opinions to the contrary, but kept them to himself.

"I can't believe James has the guts to tell off Dumbledore!" piped up Peter, his voice a shaky mix of terror and awe.

Remus didn't believe it either. James' wild gestures were enthusiastic rather than angry and he was saying something that Dumbledore seemed to find mildly surprising but very amusing.

"He's got big balls, our Jamie." Sirius said proudly, as a parent might brag that their extremely talented prodigy of a child had been accepted to Oxford at the age of eleven.

But James also had big brains, large enough to know what a risk it would be to challenge the Headmaster for something so deserved as revenge. However, judging by James' expression of glee as he re-joined them, whatever his purpose, the conversation had gone well.

"Did it."

"Well done Prongs," cheered Sirius in admiration.

"Cheers," said James, beaming widely. "Lets head to the rooms though, I have stuff to do before seven."

"What?"

"I've got to polish my broom before Quidditch practice. And unpack." Added James as an afterthought.

"What? Quidditch practice? Already?" With each question the pitch of Sirius' voice rose an octave.

"Start as we mean to go on," said James determinedly. "So I've just booked the pitch for our first practice at seven."

Nobody moved to follow James.

"Come on," he urged his stunned friend, "I've got to tell the others, too."

But Sirius was staring out of the window, where boiling black clouds were assembling menacingly in the turbulent sky.

"Bloody chuffingly awesomely great."

xxx

It was 7 o'clock and the doom-laden clouds had not broken yet, but like a glasss wobbling precariously on the table edge it was only a matter of time before they did, and water would spill everywhere.

Practice was as depressing and chaotic as the pressured sky above. Nobody was thrilled to be dragged onto the Quidditch pitch on the first day of term, and James' efforts to 'jolly everyone along' only served to irritate people even more.

His usually infectious enthusiasm was failing to permeate the grumpy exteriors of his team.

"Good try," James called encouragingly to Laina, who had just sent the Quaffle flying several feet left of the hoops.

"Bullshit Potter," growled the frustrated girl in return, "and you know it." She swung her broomstick around and zoomed off to the opposite end of the pitch.

"That _was _bullshit, James," agreed the third chaser, Michael Bain ploughing through the humid air to meet James and Sirius. "She's really off today."

"We're all making mistakes today." Said James fairly. "People are just a bit tense."

"Yes, but," Michael tilted his head as though trying to get his head around James' point, "you and me haven't missed every shot. Off or not."

James sighed as tossed the Quaffle between his hands absently. "But I've _always_ been better at shooting than her. _We've_ always been the better shooters." He amended.

"Granted." Accepted Michael. "BUT, she is quicker than you, I mean us, and it's not just her shots that have been off, her passing _used_ to be the best part of her game, and she's nearly been unseated by a Bludger three times – she used to be able to dodge trains, but she keeps staring off in the wrong directions, and I just - "

"OK! OK, Michael," snapped James, "what would you like me to do about it? Kick her off the team for not playing well? If that was the way I did it you'd all be out today. I understand you're not fluffing like she is, but Merlin, what the hell do you want me to do about it?"

Michael was stumped. "I don't know." He managed.

"Right, well, when you do let me know. Now will you go and tell everyone to get ready for three-on-four? I need to speak with Sirius a moment."

Michael nodded sheepishly and flew down to the mingling players.

"Sirius mate, you have to pull it together." James rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Gods this is hard work," he muttered, "I'll never say a bad word about 'Team Tyrant Tucker' ever again."

"Pull what together?" asked Sirius, taken aback but radiating blameless innocence.

"Don't get cute with me Padfoot," sighed James. "You're playing appallingly, too. And I know what's putting you off. It's that," James pointed to two huddled figures in the stands, "and that." He gestured to an angry blur of red and gold wheeling in the heavy air.

Sirius knew better than to try to maintain ignorance. He knew exactly what James meant. He didn't know how Fiona had found out about the impromptu practice, in fact her eagerness quite scared him, but there she was, bundled in robes keenly watching from the deserted stands. He had to admit she looked very attractive, for a stalker, her fur lined robes giving her the appearance of a very cute Eskimo, soft fur framing her petite face, nose and cheeks tinted pink by the ferocious wind. She caught him looking and gave him an excited wave.

James rolled his eyes. "She's distracting you. And she's distracting other people."

Sirius glanced at Laina, who was glaring down at the encroacher. He felt the familiar surge of annoyance as she looked contemptuously at _his _guest. Laina was far less beautiful than Fiona in her already crumpled Quidditch robes, the plain cut further disguising any womanly attributes and making her figure even more boyish. The red robes highlighted the crimson in her cheeks; her face flushed and blotchy from physical exertion and the whipping wind. Her hair was a mess, teased out of its loose knot by the breeze and plastered to her forehead by sweat. Far less beautiful, but as Sirius shuddered he was loathe to admit, by no means less appealing.

"Look Sirius, I don't know what the hell's going on, and you know what? I don't want to. But please, _sort it out_. You used to be able to put your stupid squabbles behind you when it came to Quidditch, so what's happened now?"

"Prongs, it's nothing - "

"Good, then get your damn head back in the game." James looked skyward as it began to drizzle. "Brilliant," he growled as he soared back to the waiting team, "just brilliant."

Three minutes later the situation was much worse. The first few scout raindrops had reported back that all was well down here thankyou, and the rest of the bulging clouds' contents seem keen to make their way earthwards as well. Sirius squinted through the driving rain. Fiona and her friend were still there, having produced a large black umbrella from somewhere. Damn, she was persistent. Sirius supposed he should find that flattering, rather than desperate and intimidating.

A whoosh by his ear caused Sirius to grip his broom in alarm. He wobbled mid-air as the Quaffle sliced raindrops in two on its express tragectory past his head.

"Oi! Black! You're not going to stop any bludgers looking up girls skirts."

An extremely alarmed Sirius bypassed the obvious statement that he'd have to be considerably lower to get any good vantage point up a skirt and progressed straight to what he considered a witty retort.

"Well, De Moitie, you're going to score a lot fewer goals throwing the Quaffle at team members instead of the goal, that is if it were possible to have a lower goal count than absolute zero."

Laina's lip curled in fury as she swooped up close to yell at him head on. "It might be easier to score if I knew my team members mind was on the game instead of in his over-active testicles."

"Perhaps," mused Sirius, his voice twisted into mock concern, "perhaps it would be easier for you to score if you had an idea where the nets where?"

Laina's voice was so full of venom it her spit would have dissolved brick-thick metal, "Perhaps you should stop checking on your stupid fan club and pay attention to more important things."

"Why should I pay attention to you?" spat out Sirius, before his brain caught up with his tongue. "To what you think?" Sirius added, a little too late, and a little too carefully.

"Alright! That is it!" James snapped, his patience rapidly uncoiling like a spring that has been stretched just too far. "Everyone, showers!" he barked the order, glasses slipping down his nose, unsettled by the unusual anger. The team sank to the ground, partly due to the weight of their rain-drenched clothes, and dejectedly headed to the changing rooms.

"Not you two," said James, holding out a hand to block the way of Sirius and Laina, who were still glaring daggers at each other. "You two need to practice. I don't want to see you back in the Common Room before nine o'clock."

"Fuck off Prongs." Laughed Sirius. It was barely eight o'clock already and the rain showed no sign of stopping its pitiless onslaught.

"I'm deadly serious. If you don't stay out here 'til nine pm, you can count yourselves off the team."

"Arsehole." The indignant response was in chorus.

"Maybe. Get on with it. And I'll remove the distraction."

James spun on his heel and waded through the mud to where Fiona and her friend were cowering under the umbrella. Sirius watched blankly as James ushered the girls from the soaking seats and led them off the field, not without positioning himself under the shelter of the black umbrella. Fiona looked back at him, appealing for him to protest, but he could not find the will. Instead he glared at his friend's back as the traitor left the pitch. Former friend, he corrected himself.

"Awww. So not true love after all?" mocked Laina.

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to know anything about it." Replied Sirius, haughtily. "Lets get on with this crap, I don't want it to last longer than necessary."

"I heard that was your approach." taunted Laina. "As you wish. What would your highness like us to do first?" she bowed with mock servility.

Sirius ignored the gibe and accepted the authority. "Well, since you ask, your shooting could do with a little work. Today's hundred-percent failure record isn't _quite_ acceptable for house team play."

"Fine." Snapped Laina, and scooping up a Quaffle from by her foot, kicked off from the ground with such force that mud spattered everywhere within a three metre radius.

Sirius had just assumed the role of keeper when a vengeful red missile flew past to his right, whizzing squarely through the centre hoop. He darted after the Quaffle, but its phenomenal speed took it so far he was panting by the time he flew back to the hoops, where Laina sat haughtily atop her broomstick, arms folded, sneering, with smugness radiating off her like steam in the pouring rain.

By the end of ten minutes Sirius was exhausted and a highly self-satisfied Laina had managed to put fifteen out of twenty balls through the hoops. Sirius had not managed to save a single; the power behind each defeated him where accuracy could not. He could have sworn one of the balls had blazed the air behind it, and he had a horrible feeling she had only managed to hit the targets by imagining his head was floating in the hoop space. It would certainly explain the way she squinted angrily before each attempt.

"Alright, time out. You're no James Potter, but you're getting better." While this was an intentional jibe, there was truth behind it. James would have got every shot straight through the hoops, especially with as poor a Keeper as Sirius. However, Laina was Chaser for a reason - two, Sirius conceded - which were her speed and her agility. She knew she was not as accurate as James and Michael and fought to make up for this by being the sharpest passer Gryffindor had seen for a long time. Her natural instincts told her to never back down from a challenge and whilst this had earned her many a punishment from the referee, it had also won the team many crucial battles and it was this ferocious passion that Sirius found so enticing. Used to find so enticing, he corrected himself. "Perhaps we should try something else. You had plenty of near misses with the Bludger today, could you use some practice?" He knew this would be a sore point, Laina prided herself on never being hit by a Bludger. A fictitious boast he was sure, but he would admit it was never a bad thing to keep your opponents in awe of your players.

His comment had the desired effect. Laina's eyes narrowed and, wiping the rain from her face, she gripped the handle of her broomstick like a weapon.

"Come on then," her voice was barely a hiss over the howling wind, "I daresay you could use some practice with your bat. It must have been such a strain having nothing to play with all summer. Well, let's get out all those pent-up destructive tendencies. You hit the Bludger and I'll dodge it. Who knows, you might get a chance to destroy something."

As she soared spitefully into the air Sirius would have liked nothing better than to throw the bat at her head, but he restrained himself, and settled for smacking the Bludger in her direction.

Laughing, she dodged the Bludger with ease, performing an unnecessary loop as it passed her on its return journey.

"Come on," she called, "I know you can do better than that. What happened to that anger?"

That anger boiled up inside Sirius and welled into a tidal wave that broke onto his bat. The Bludger was sent hurtling through the air towards the taunting figure on the broomstick. Once more his shot was easily avoided.

Laina wrapped her legs round the broomstick and swung below it. Gripping by her knees she waved at the Bludger as it passed her. The blood rushed to her head making her look like a grinning red balloon and Sirius' hands itched to pop it.

"What's the matter Black?" called his tormentor. "Not afraid to injure me, are you? Thought you always got your own way, no matter who you hurt in the process." Here her voice turned bitter and cold and she hoisted herself back on top of her broomstick. "No, of course you're not afraid to wound people. So do it." She snarled the challenge through gritted teeth and scorched a furious figure of eight in the tattered sky.

The rain was slicing the air into heavy shreds, water cascading in sheets of glass. The wind grabbed Laina's words and flung them at Sirius where they echoed in his head, which was empty save for one thought.

He hit the Bludger, pouring his whole weight and fury into the swing. As it charged back toward him he drove his anger once more into the bat, driving the Bludger with all his frustration and resentment. He wanted to break it, to send it flying so fast and so hard that it would tear the very air in two, rip the fabric of the universe apart and laugh at the desolate void beyond. He was no longer flying; he was suspended in empty space. He no longer acknowledged the rain, he did not notice the frenzied winds that beat his sides and dragged his hair, that prowled the pitch and tore away at the scraps of words uttered by the girl in front of him. All there was was him, the laughing figure, and the steady, comforting weight of the bat. Laina was like an insect, dancing in front of his vision. Each confident, mocking loop she turned to avoid his aim, the harder and faster he drove the bat.

He barely saw her face; rain streaming down her face mingling with the tracks of sweat, hair lank and dripping, falling in wide eyes, fearful that she may have pushed too far. Now she was the embodiment of all he feared and hated. All he saw was a laughing mouth, exposing his weaknesses, tongues stabbing at his frailties. He was a Black, arrogant, cruel, ruthless. No feelings for himself or for others. Eyes turned red and demonic, narrowed in resentment. A disgrace to the family name, not worthy of the title Black; he was pathetic, weak, small. The voice of his mother mingled with that of Laina, with that of his father, his brother, teachers, Jamie, one tangled mess of disappointment and betrayal. He was a nothing. An empty space of worthlessness and failed chances.

He had to destroy it. To be free.

As he swung the bat for the final time he forced his paranoia, his fear, his anger into the wood. It did not, to his surprise, explode under such pressure, but rocketed the ball with canon speed towards the demon on the broom; it would find its mark, clean and true, in the face of his tormentor. To smash it to pieces, to destroy the fiendish vision, then his shackles would be lifted.

_Now_ Sirius saw Laina's face. Slamming back to reality with a force that almost drove the air from his lungs he saw the satanic image wash away with the rain. Where a demon had lingered seconds earlier there was the frail, human figure of a girl clutching a broomstick, her eyes and mouth wide with fear as she withheld the unstoppable force heading straight for her.

Sirius could see it all too clearly. There is no way even Laina could avoid the force of this shot. The heavy ball connects brutally with her face, at this speed bone fractures under the force of such violent impact. The bloodied body and broomstick detach, and both make their silent descent to the ground. In the fight they have flown too high and under the mud the ground is still solid. As it hits the earth the limp body crumples like origami, the mangled body now no more human than a paper figure.

He knows this will happen.

But it doesn't. Somehow Laina swung backwards, but lost control of the broomstick, which bucked from under her leaving her dangling with only handfuls of bristle to cling onto. The Bludger continued its near-fatal course, but instead of connecting with skin, smashed into the broomstick handle, splintering the wood with its explosive force. Sirius watched in fascinated horror as Laina dangled from one half of a fragmented broomstick and desperately manoeuvred the unstable craft to the ground, where she collapsed in an exhausted heap, still clutching the remains of her treasured broom.

It was while Sirius was watching dumbstruck as Laina made her ungraceful landing that the Bludger returned with a vengeance. It had lost most of its momentum as it smashed the Comet 200, but as it rounded back to hit the next, and only other player, it picked up enough speed to deliver Sirius quite a blow to the head.

Stunned, relieved and quite probably concussed, Sirius could think of only one response as he fell to the floor.

"Shit."

"Shit!" cried Laina, bending over him, with, as far as Sirius could tell in his dazed state, a look of extreme concern etched on her mud-spattered features.

"Bludger." Mumbled Sirius, his tongue refusing to work properly.

"It's OK, I've put it back in the box."

"I'm. I'm sorry 'bout, 'bout nurly hittin' yur." Sirius' words were slurred but Laina seemed to understand.

"It's OK." She replied.

"I've put it bac' i' the box." Sirius repeated, giggling slightly through the pain.

His head was throbbing and his vision wavered as Laina knelt by his side. She brushed his sodden hair from his face, taking great care not to brush the welt left by the iron ball. It must be bleeding, Sirius assumed, although he could not tell the difference between rain and blood leaking down his face, but he could taste tin when he licked his lips with his tongue, which seemed to be the only dry part of him. Laina's fingers were rough from Quidditch practice, but Sirius didn't want the delicate motions to stop.

"I'm not very good at this." She apologised, producing her wand, "You'd've been better with my sister, or James." She placed the tip of her wand to his head and muttered a charm. "Or Remus is very good at healing charms, I noticed." She added as a further charm eased the throbbing in his head.

"Oh?" Sirius tried to be indistinct, which wasn't hard as he still felt as though he had been thoroughly washed, ironed and pressed.

"I need to get you to the hospital wing, can you stand?" Laina asked, extending her hand, which was filthy with mud from her fall. In fact, dirt streaked every part of her, tangled her hair and smudged across her face.

Sirius accepted the help and unsteadily got to his feet, feeling as though he was about to walk for the first time.

However, at his first step he faltered, and fell into the prepared arms of Laina.

"Sorry." He said, and while he had meant sorry for falling he was surprised at how all-encompassing the apology sounded.

"Me too."

The rain tracing channels on Laina's cheeks looked like tears, and softened all her self-built hard edges. Sirius was prepared to admit that this softening may have been to do with the blurry concussion, but right now, staggering under his weight, the soaking, filthy mud monster in front of him was the most delicate, fragile thing in existence.

The rain was trailing down his back, like finger strokes, cool and tender. The mud licked and nibbled at his feet, hugging the soles of his shoes. The wind played with his hair, teasing each strand and breathing softly on his flushed cheeks like a quiet whisper. Lips met, the rain melting the two together until there was one being, easy and natural.

There was no great significant rumble of thunder. There was no beautiful, dramatic flash of lightning to illuminate the scene in the rain below.

But there should have been.

* * *

Wow, this one has exhausted me. I made Sirius a lot more traumatized than I meant to, but he is a poor dear with much going on in his life. Ah, don't we love tragic heroes?

Please R&R for this one, because it took me ages, and took a lot out of me, I'm not used to writing so deeply. I really got attached to this chapter, which is weird because it wasn't there in the beginning, I just thought we should see more of Sirius and Laina after concentrating so hard on Remus and Ella. So, please tell me what you think.

A worn out Sham.


	15. Mint Imperials

Wow! One hundred reviews – you have no idea how pleased that makes me, and here's a fifteenth chapter I hope you feel is good enough to review. Or bad enough.

Sorry if this story is descending into cheese and cliché – be aware I had the idea for this story a long time ago, before I developed my writing skills. The backbone of the story must remain the same, but I hope the muscle tissue surrounding it is improving. Or something.

Oh, and Peter. I'm not a fan of people who leave him out because ... well ... because of what he does. I think he's troubled in this era, which leads to him being a sod. So, anyway, I'm not Peter-bashing. Sorry.

* * *

"Five past." Muttered Peter, fidgeting anxiously with his watch.

James grunted, and shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly, but the impatient way in which he jabbed the unfortunate Quidditch figurines in front of him revealed his badly hidden concern.

"Don't worry Prongs," consoled Remus, "they've probably taken your words to heart and are practicing so keenly they've lost track of time."

"Or killed each other." Peter voiced the fear of all three restless Marauders.

Remus rolled his eyes in desperation as James put his head in his hands.

"I was so ready for this to be our best year," lamented James, giving a growl of frustration, "and then I screwed it all up. I'm a pathetic leader."

"Don't be an idiot. This was only the first practice, things will get infinitely better. You were _born_ to be Quidditch Captain, it's not your fault if Sirius has a mid-teen crisis in the middle of it. I think you handled it really well." Remus was pleased to see a trace of a smile play on his dejected friend's mouth.

"Do you think we could win?" he asked imploringly. Remus knew what was expected of him, when it came to James a little ego massage could heal all manner of wounds.

"You're the best captain they've had in a long time. The best captain," he added, "with a bloody good team."

"If they're all still alive." Mourned Peter. "You might be a player down."

"Don't worry about it James," continued Remus, suffocating the urge to bite Peter and stifle his runaway mouth, "they're only seven minutes late. Sirius is probably just trying to teach you a lesson."

"It takes a while to scrape a body off the stands," added Peter.

"Shut up Wormtail." Snapped James. Remus was glad that James had saved him the job, but felt guilty when he saw the plump boy's face drop. Peter idolised James and every rebuke from his hero hit his esteem hard.

Peter obeyed, hanging his head. He had never mentioned it, but he wasn't really fond of his nickname. He wouldn't dream of telling everyone, for fear of being labelled pathetic, or worse having his nickname removed, the one thing that kept him a part of the exclusive group, but Wormtail felt degrading and unattractive. He had been thrilled when he had finally achieved the Animagus transformation, after many impatient complaints from Sirius who had managed his a full three weeks before, but Peter felt the faint strains of disappointment at his animal form. He had marvelled at the power and majesty of James' stag, and had found Sirius' enthusiastic boarhound amusing but still commanding and intimidating and dared to dream that he too may gain some power and command some respect in his animal form. However, the small, weak rat he became was a far cry from the prowling lion he secretly imagined. Remus, who was always best at sensing these things encouraged the smaller boy, reminding him that he could hit the knot on the Willow for the others, and provide the stealth and silence the others could never achieve. This cheered Peter somewhat, but he remained in jealous awe even of Remus. Oh, he would never envy his poor friend the torment that plagued his life every month, but Peter admired in a perverse way the strength that lycanthropy gave his friend. Improved hearing and sense of smell, and the enhanced healing required for one with the wolf inside. He, however, would always be overshadowed; a weak, pathetic pest however the moon appeared in the sky. Wormtail, a disgusting name for a nuisance of a creature. Wormtail. _Worm_tail. _Wormtail._

"Remus!" came a quiet yet urgent cry from behind him. All three boys looked up, as did a large portion of the common room, to see Ella bombing down the stairs from the girls' rooms, make the leap from the last step too quickly and skid across the polished floor, arriving in an undignified heap behind Remus' sofa. She bounced up like a tatty jack-in-a-box, eyes wide and bright and cheeks so deeply flushed from haste and embarrassment that Remus' could feel the heat from her burning cheeks.

Ignoring shocked stares and the concern of Lily who had followed Ella in a more dignified fashion down the stairs, Ella launched breathlessly into her message. "Remus! You have to come to the hospital wing!"

"What? Why?" For one terrible moment Remus imagined his secret being let slip. An error on Madame Pomfrey's part perhaps. Although what she would have said was uncertain, especially with the full moon being a full two weeks away.

"Sirius! You have to come to the hospital wing NOW!" Ella tried to lift the boy to his feet, but hadn't the strength. "Now!" she insisted.

"They've killed each other." Peter repeated defiantly as the five Gryffindors hurried out of the common room.

The ragtag band skidded to a halt outside the hospital wing, Ella still dragging Remus, followed by a bewildered James and uncomfortable Lily, Peter bringing up the rear.

"See?" Ella pointed through the small windows in the infirmary doors where Sirius could be clearly seen lying on one of the crisp white beds, face as pale as the plump pillow and a distinct red blot staining the dressing on his forehead. The friends stared in horror at the still figure in the bed.

"Bugger me," breathed James, "They did nearly kill each other."

Peter was too shocked to gloat and merely stared transfixed at the ugly blood that blazed like fire on his friend's ashen face.

James blanched and staggered backwards. Lily caught him as he crumpled, alarmed at the effect on the usually so composed Quidditch captain, who now slumped like a puppet with his strings snipped.

"It's my fault." James' voice was a guilty whisper, and he whimpered faintly at the thought of Sirius' limp, lifeless body. Lily lightly caressed the stricken boy's head and looked at Ella for help. She was prepared when it came to countering James' arrogance, but his helplessness scared her. She was surprised to find she wanted to help him, and distressed that she might not be able to.

"Don't worry," assured the blonde. "He's alright." Ella's voice was filled with such conviction that Peter breathed a sigh of relief.

"How do you know?" James was still panicked, and his fingers dug deeper into Lily's arm, clinging to comfort.

Remus' expression, while at first had displayed tell-tale signs of shock now was of puzzlement. "Yes," he said, looking at Ella quizzically, "how did you even know that Sirius was here? You came down from the girl's dorms. How did you find out?"

Ella looked awkward and squirmed uncomfortably under the gazes of the baffled Marauders. She looked to Lily for assistance, who paused in her care of James and nodded uncertainly.

"Laina." Was the simple answer. Simple, yet no more helpful.

"Laina?" Peter's brows crinkled in confusion. "I'm sure she didn't come into the common room."

"She didn't." Ella's eyes were intently studying her battered trainers. "She's in there. In fact, she's just about to sit down by the bed."

Four pairs of eyes turned back to the bed in the hospital. Sure enough, unaware of her astonished watchers, Laina came into view through the window and sat by Sirius' bed.

"What the -?" James stared at Ella in disbelief, who was still tracing the path of her laces with her eyes.

"She was getting a glass of water for him."

Sure enough, a glass was placed on the bedside table, where it was gratefully grasped by a stirred Sirius, much to the relief of his audience.

"How do you know this stuff?" Peter asked, "You've been with us all this time."

"I – I ... " Ella's feet traced uneasy circles in the dust on the corridor floor. She mumbled a confession, with the embarrassment of one admitting a humiliating hereditary disease. Unfortunately, the listening boys heard her muttered words.

"You can read Laina's thoughts?" James repeated incredulously.

"Important ones. Yes." Ella looked directly at James, her cheeks flushed, unused to confrontation, but eyes glinting with unnatural defiance. "Sometimes we can, well, sense each others thoughts. Especially in distressing situations. And if I concentrate really hard I can tell what she's doing. Sort of."

Peter once more voiced the unanimous belief. "I don't believe it."

James' mouth was open so wide he was in danger of swallowing owls, and when Ella turned to Remus for support he could not disguise a sceptical eyebrow.

"Lily!" appealed Ella.

All eyes turned to the redhead, who seemed unwilling to shame herself by agreeing to such wild claims. However, she would stick by her friends.

"It's weird," she admitted, "sometimes they do, I don't know, work in tandem. And they generally do know where the other one is. It's probably just a twin thing."

Ella looked slightly appeased by this vague encouragement, but the Marauders looked less than convinced.

"Look," she said, seemingly as unruffled as usual, although her voice did contain a hint of exasperation. "I'll prove it. Look at them." She ordered, pointing through the doors, while herself turning away from the scene in the hospital room. "And I'll tell you what's happening."

A hesitant shuffling indicated that her wishes were being fulfilled.

"Well?" asked James after a minute of silence.

"They're talking."

"We knew that already." Dared Peter.

"She feels guilty, she's asking how his head is. She did it."

"Well, we assumed that." James was beginning to sound impatient, he wanted to see his friend. And preferably keep him away from his psychotic attacker and her equally unhinged sister.

"Well I know it."

Remus was feeling guilty, Ella's last comment was a snappy one, and such lack of control and calm was extreme for his girlfriend – that word still gave him a small thrill of pleasure – and was a sure sign that she was getting extremely exasperated. He turned and aimed to comfort her. While he believed that this whole bizarre episode was a load of overexcited coincidence and theatrical nonsense, he still felt he should have been more supportive of Ella.

He reached out to squeeze her arm as she announced, "She's happy, he must have forgiven her. Are they smiling?" her tone was agitated but eager.

An indistinct mumble from James implied that they might be, but it was too far away to tell. And inconclusive anyway, he thought.

"Wait!" she cried, with an urgency that gave Remus a start. "She's going to kiss him. I swear, just you watch!"

So certain was her tone that Remus abandoned his plan to console her and turned once more to view the couple in the bright sanatorium.

Sirius and Laina were inches apart and, from what the voyeurs could see, silent. Sure enough, Laina leaned in and, hestitantly at first, captured Sirius' mouth in her own. He returned the affection with surprising force for an invalid.

The atmosphere in the corridor was not one of conviction, but of confusion. The watching party turned from the passionate embrace on the bed to the small figure still resolutely facing in the opposite direction.

"I still don't – " began James, but he was cut off by another outburst from Ella.

Still ignoring the couple she let out a surprised giggle, "She's embarrassed now. I think they knocked the water over."

A small gasp from Peter indicated this was indeed the case.

"But," continued Ella, gaining confidence as she was continually proved correct, "I don't think they're that bothered. They're kissing again, aren't they?"

"Yes." James' affirmation was breathed in bewilderment. "Is all this for real?"

A smug smile spread across Ella's face as she turned to face her confounded audience.

"I can do it better when she knows that I'm trying. Then it's more like 'reading minds'." Her condescending tone dropped in the quotation marks and showed her disdain for such practice, which Remus found a little hypocritical since that was essentially what she claimed to do.

James now became eager. "So, how can you read minds? Like, if I told you, say, an item of clothing, or a colour, would Laina be able to tell me what it was?"

Ella's nose wrinkled in thought. "It's normally more feelings that we can share, but I suppose if we both were concentrating on doing it, yes, it might work."

James became very animated at this. "Would it work with cards?"

Remus rolled his eyes in desperation.

- - -

That night was a busy one in the Gryffindor Common Room. James Potter and Sirius Black were pitching the sale of their 'Brand New Psychic Pills'. Sirius, who had just returned from the hospital wing in hushed circumstances was announcing that the pills were perfect for students not wishing to revise for tests, as the psychic pills would allow the 'alternative learner' access to the answers via mental channels, revealing the answer sheet's contents without 'the bother of having to steal any answer papers.

For the sceptical there was a small demonstration in the centre of the room. James had picked a trustworthy student from the audience – Ella DeMoitie, everyone knew was sensible and unlikely to join any risky experiment – and given her one of their new pills, which looked suspiciously like mint imperials. Sirius had boasted their added bonus, that they were undetectable by anti-cheating charms, and had requested that a sufficiently advanced seventh-year perform the charm, to prove 'we're not conning anyone'.

The demonstration itself was simple; Ella was sat at one end of the common room, while Sirius held up cards from an exploding snap pack to the watching audience. James would then ask Ella to tell the crowd which card she thought it was. By the time forty of the cards had all been guessed correctly Sirius and James had made a profit of fourteen Galleons. The demonstration was then brought to an abrupt halt as Laina, who had been lurking in the audience announced loudly,

"I'm not going to be a part of some idiot's scheme any more." And stormed angrily upstairs, followed by her sister, whose presence was not really missed as most of the student body was adequately convinced. Laina's outburst caused little comment, the students were used to her random rants, but some more observant females noticed Sirius Black loitering agitatedly at the foot of the girl's stairs.

In all, two hundred and fifty-five mint imperials were sold that evening.

* * *

You know the drill!

Sham


	16. Like Water

Just some info to support a later comment (my source is the HP lexicon, blame them not me!):-

1892- JRR Tolkien born – attend Hogwarts 1903-1910-ish.

Dumbledore would be 60 years old at this time, and I assume by this age he would be teaching at the school.

I also apologise for the (seemingly) disjointed nature of these chapters. It might help to read the final lines of the previous chapter so things flow better. Just a suggestion. Oh, and Rachael, glad you've finally joined us.

* * *

Harry had listened to the tale of his godfather's affairs with a mixture of joy and despondency "Then what did they do?" he asked dejectedly.

Lupin looked a little surprised. "I think that's quite a personal question, Harry. Besides, Sirius was not prone to telling us details of his conquests. Not all of them, anyway."

"No!" amended Harry. "I meant, how did they mess it all up?"

"You think they messed it all up?" smiled Lupin.

"They didn't?"

"Yes, and no." Lupin admitted, a fond sigh escaping his lips. "From then on, Sirius and Laina became somewhat of an item, much to the disappointment of a large section of the female population at Hogwarts."

Harry thought back to Snape's pensieve, and the girl admiring Sirius in the examination, and the swarms admiring him under the tree.

"Quite a few girls thought that Sirius had made the wrong choice for a steady – steadier" Lupin corrected himself, "girlfriend. Oh, Laina was by no means unpopular, but her tendency to say exactly what she thought acquired her a few enemies. Plus," Remus was being very careful with his words, "there were more attractive potential partners at Hogwarts, or at least some people believed," Lupin's gaze lingered on the unmoving patient and his cheer faltered for a moment before he continued, "and such people made it their task to prove this to Sirius."

"But he rejected them, right?" Harry beseeched Lupin to tell him that his godfather was indeed honourable and trustworthy.

"Most of them." Lupin smiled as Harry's face drooped in disappointment, "Your godfather was very much in demand, and while he was devoted most of the time sometimes he just needed a little ... reminding."

The common room listened with vague amusement to the hot-blooded scene playing out before them. Laina had stormed through the portrait hole moments before, swiftly followed by a ruffled Sirius and by the sound of it their argument was already in full swing.

"I told you already," Sirius held out his palms in a pacifying gesture, "I was just getting help with my homework."

"Oh!" cried Laina, in mock surprise, "Homework. I see now. What, pray tell, was she teaching you? The intricacies of tonsil tennis?"

"Jesus Laina, how many times do I have to say this? We weren't kissing."

"Pity, you could use the practice." Snapped Laina.

"Bullshit," laughed Sirius, "and we both know it." As if to prove his point Sirius grabbed her neck and pulled her in for a forceful kiss. Laina returned the affection for a moment before pulling away. Her expression was one of scandalised anger, but she could not fully disguise the thrill she received. It was all part of the game, and everyone present knew it. She kept up the charade well, though, and delivered an indignant torrent of obscenities in response.

The occupants of the common room barely blinked. Sirius and Laina had been an item for almost three months and such charged events were commonplace, something for entertainment perhaps, but no longer worthy of remark.

"I don't want to speak to you ever again!" announced Laina, fuming up the staircase to the girls' rooms. Sirius made to follow her, but halted at the foot of the stairs in exasperation.

"Laina?" he called into the darkness. "You know I can't follow you up there!"

"Who says I want you to?" came the only slightly reluctant reply.

"Laina." Sirius' teasing tone carried just a hint of a warning.

"Oh, bugger it." Laina mooched her way back down the stairs, but the minute Sirius extended his arms she whipped round and marched her way up to the boy's dorm.

Sirius rolled his eyes, and taking a bow to the watching room, followed her up the stairs. Everyone knew he would.

"They're a proper Catherine and Heathcliff couple, aren't they?" sighed Ella, glancing at Sirius' retreating back.

"I don't know, I can't imagine Catherine calling Heathcliff a 'pathetic little bastard with his brains lodged firmly in his groins'." said Remus, echoing the traumatic scene that had so recently unfolded.

"She would have done if she'd caught him flirting with Hannah Jenks on the third floor corridor."

"So that's what that was about?" asked Remus. Ella nodded resignedly, methodically bending the pages of the Charms textbook lying open on her lap. Remus shook his head in despair. He longer questioned Ella's knowledge, he did not pretend to understand the twins' link, but he accepted it. It seemed that anything that affected Laina enough to ignite her fiery passion, whether positive or ... otherwise, burned its way into Ella's consciousness, too. This perturbed Remus' sense of order and logic but he dealt well with this irrational quirk by not thinking about it.

Catherine and Heathcliff. Ella had not even bothered to ask Remus if he knew the book; she did not need to. One of their most common interests was a gripping enthusiasm for Muggle Literature. And Wizard literature, Remus noted, in the one successful example of such writing; both owned well-thumbed copies of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, despite its prohibition in the wizarding world for blatant disclosure of wizard secrets to a Muggle audience. The goblin population in particular were insulted, at the time of writing the books the author was in serious trouble with Gringotts, a fact reflected in their portrayal in his apparently 'fictitious' world. As a result of his 'betrayal' Tolkien was excised from the wizarding world, but his fans (and Muggle bank account) remained high; Dumbledore in particular kept his signed copy framed in his office, the words '_Many thanks for the help Gandalf, John RR_' scrawled in untidy script on the inside cover. Remus admired the story, for his purely escapist needs it was just the thrilling ticket, however, he tended to skip the parts about the wargs; vicious, moderately intelligent wolves being a topic a little too close for comfort. The same uneasiness applied to Ella's favourite book. She had often despaired at his lack of enthusiasm to 'Lord of the Flies', but to Remus the idea of the uncontrollable beast lurking just below the calm human surface was far too familiar, but of course this was difficult to explain when Ella stared at him with round, questioning but unsuspecting eyes.

Catherine and Heathcliff. Remus could see where Ella had got that idea; the passion, the fury, the total, irritating inability to make it work properly.

"Be thankful there's no Edgar," said Remus.

"There's plenty of Hannah Jenks's," replied Ella, slightly accusatorily.

"True," muttered Remus. He wound his fingers absent-mindedly in Ella's hair as he mused on her words. Sirius was having a little difficulty adjusting to monogamy, although he was performing better than anyone had expected, having not cheated per se in the entire length of his relationship with Laina. Heathcliff would never have needed to make such distinctions, however, there were similarities.

"Souls made of fire, and lightning," he recalled what he could from Catherine's dramatic confessions. Ella nodded into his chest, inhaling deeply his homely scent of soap and hot cooking before sleepily murmuring,

"My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees - my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath - a source of little visible delight, but necessary." Ella quoted without pause. This ability never ceased to amaze Remus, her memory for words was astounding, as though a great filing system existed in her head, where facts could be stored in perfect condition until they were recalled, exactly as she had left them. Ella claimed this was because 'there's so much room in there'. Her reasoning was lack of talent in anything else; her sister had dived for all the sporting talent in their gene pool, she could boast none of Lily's musical ability, and her chess playing had not improved an iota despite Remus' regular coaching attempts. 'There's a big empty space in my head, begging for faculties to fill it,' she had said, 'and so words file in neatly and sensibly, where, such as in my sister's case, untidy things such as Quidditch would lurk.'

"I don't know, though." she continued, with a measured tone that implied a long brooded thought was escaping, and slowly picking up momentum. "Rocks. OK, stable, always there, necessary. But surely a relationship has to change and grow, or it gets stale and pointless. Like a shark," she announced, "it has to constantly move forward or it dies."

Remus chuckled at the analogy, but Ella had not finished. It was obvious that this was something she had been pondering for a long time.

"I think a relationship is like water. If it's too still it can become stagnant and easily contaminated, or if it's too shallow, well, then it's not going to last very long."

"So, what are Sirius and Laina?" Remus queried. "Stagnant or shallow?"

Ella did not bother to pick up on the obvious invitation to insult Sirius and instead carried on with her thread of thought.

"Definitely not stagnant," she began, "they constantly move. They like each other, and then they're at each others throats, then they're at each others throats in a different sense." Ella was obviously thinking of the bruised marks that Laina often wore like a necklace, "One minute they're rapids, dangerous and noisy, then they calm down. You've never seen two people so absorbed in each other. It's beautiful to look at, like a rippling stream, but it's a deceptive calm because you just know that there's a huge waterfall ready to throw you off. And _that _is really destructive. But I suppose if you're a part of it it's not the same..." Here Ella trailed off, embarrassed at having voiced such internal musings. "Anyway, that's what they're like. It looks exciting from the outside, and it's fascinatingly alluring, but it's like a lion. You wouldn't want to get too close to it."

Or a wolf. Remus cursed his inner thoughts and his quickened heartbeat. His sudden discomfort was picked up by Ella, as she was lying on his chest his heart must have been practically punching her head. He forced out some words to keep the conversation moving, and drive it away from his unusual reaction. "So what are we?" he choked, instantly cursing the words the minute they escaped his babbling lips. They sounded bitter, resentful, or at best immature. "The sea?" He meant it to sound grand, and meaningful, but it felt mocking.

To Remus' relief Ella seemed to ponder this as a serious question.

"No." she said finally. "The sea is too threatening, too overwhelming. And it's a bit big, don't you think? We're not getting delusions of grandeur are we, Mr Lupin?" she punched his still fluttering chest playfully. "No." she repeated, "we're a long, smooth river. Steady and constant, and while it may not be as thrilling or enchanting as a waterfall, it's still pretty in it's own way. And the best part is, you can't see how deep it is until you just let go and dive in." She said this to herself, staring fixedly at his jumper as she fiddled with his collar. It was obvious that once more she had revealed more than she had meant to. Her eyes finally met his, apologetic and uncertain.

"Is that alright?" she asked, worried how Remus would take being likened to a river.

Remus kissed her cheek swiftly and softly. "A river is perfect. Better give Poseidon his trident back though." He quipped. Ella snorted into his jumper as she snuggled further into his chest.

Remus smiled as he inhaled, nose buried in the loose blonde curls spilling over his neck and shoulders. The wolf's heightened senses were glad that Ella rarely made concessions of the cosmetic kind; perfumes and hair sprays assaulted his sensitive nose. However, the faint smell of vanilla that clung to the human rug on top of him was comforting. Gentle, stable, tender. He could live with that.

* * *

Lupin seemed so caught up in pleasant memories that Harry was loathe to break the peaceful spell. However, the question was so burning it was likely to melt through his tongue if he did not ask.

"So," he began quietly, gently disturbing Lupin from his reverie, "she didn't know that you were a werewolf?"

The minute the words escaped his lips Harry regretted them. It seemed accusatory, as though he was branding his companion deceptive and dishonest.

The sad look in the older man's eyes implied that these were actually his own worries. "No." He admitted guiltily. "I never told her." The younger Remus trembled with dread, fear of rejection and disgust at the monster he was turning his unworthy veins to ice and paralysing his contaminated limbs. The older, wiser Lupin retained his composure and smiled at his uneasy charge. "However, revelations were made, as they have an irritating tendency to, and in no subtle manner."

Harry leaned forward eagerly, in keen anticipation for more tales, especially if they involved unsubtle revelations.

Lupin settled further in his chair, taking a deep breath to ready himself for the plunge into the murky waters of memory, when a sudden commotion from the bed made both narrator and audience jump in alarm.

The woman in the bed sat bolt upright, eyes wide and mouth trembling in an expression of abject fear as she stared in terror at some point beyond Harry and Remus, beyond even the time they were inhabiting.

Her breathless words were horrified scraps torn from a long idle mouth.

"Lily! James!You have to find them!"

* * *

I'm writing as fast as I can, but if you have time the little box at the bottom – when clickety clicked often spurs me on. But you're getting the next chapter if you like it or not!

Sham


	17. Crying to the dark

Woah! It's been a long time - my apologies, illnesses, birthday and Christmas all got in the way - but this is longer than usual to make up for it.

Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing - I live for it, and when my computer stops preventing all pop-ups I'll review some of your stories!

Apologies for last time – I forgot to put in a little explanation of who Catherine and Heathcliff actually are.

Catherine and Heathcliff are the heroine and hero of Emily Bronte's 'Wuthering Heights'. I won't tell you the whole plot because I advise you read it if you haven't, but Catherine and Heathcliff are soulmates in the truest sense of the word, but the Edgar that Remus mentions is the man Catherine chooses to marry rather than follow her heart. (Idiot). Both characters are full of unrestrained passion, and through the course of the book love and hate each other with an incredible intensity (For reasons that are their faults I might add). I'm not suggesting that Sirius and Laina are a couple in the league of C&H, but just thought that being the literary types that Ella and Remus are that they would sometimes converse through book terms. (I do it with my book-fiend friends). But I don't believe that Heathcliff would ever be found flirting with Hannah Jenks.

Oh – and the 'like a shark' comment from last chapter needs a disclaimer. That was stolen from Woody Allen!

Infatuation with metaphors? Only slightly guilty. Sorry, but I gave it Ella as an irritating character quirk because not being good at anything in particular she needed one hobby!

THIS chapter, sorry it's been such a long time in the making. I had terrible writers block – the specific kind where I know exactly what I want to say, but don't know in which chapter or in which order, but I've revealed a little to you patient people and this chapter is just huge. I ache now it took soooo long. So, I tried to keep the characters in character, but feel free to let me know if I did a bad job, I'd like feedback on that so I can improve because that was the hardest part of this chapter. But, otherwise, ENJOY!

* * *

Lupin was at the head of the bed in an instant. He grasped her hand tightly and stared at the stricken girl with pleading eyes. As though called by his gaze her face turned to face his, but Harry could see that her sight was focused on a point to the right of Lupins' shoulder, and she seemed to be addressing someone neither of them could see.

"Quick! James and Lily! And Harry! Oh God, Sirius!"

Harry recoiled like he had been kicked. His heart already felt as though it had been attacked haphazardly by surgeon's paddles and now was in danger of launching itself out of his mouth. His stomach had turned inside out at the mention of his parent's names, but the unexpected cry of his own had shaken the floor beneath his feet. His head snapped up at breakneck speed as it was called again.

"Harry." This time it was Lupin's voice, and he was directly addressing him, alarm and concern so embedded in his expression they were made flesh, reaching out in an attempt to placate him. "I don't think it's wise for you to be here."

Harry was torn. He desperately wanted to run, to leave this suddenly claustrophobic room in which living ghosts called out to the dead, where fearful eyes searched desperately into a different place. He wanted to leave with such speed that the carpet singed in his tracks, burning down this room of confusion, of memory and pain. Yet despite his intense fear a morbid curiosity ensnared his painfully tense muscles, freezing them even as they prepared for flight. His body and resolve wavered between his two paths, and could only be decided as Harry looked at Lupin.

Lupin, a man so steady and calm that you could balance tea on his capable shoulders, a man more solid than the ground himself, the man Harry knew he could always rely on to be a logical, rational and caring pillar of support now looked so uncertain and tormented it tore Harry in two. The sight of agonized worry distorting his mentor's face as he struggled to bring the demon in the bed back to reality violently rocked Harry's foundations, but set his resolve.

"What can I do?" he asked.

Lupin looked taken aback, but noticing Harry's now determined expression nodded soberly and motioned to the small bedside table on the opposite side of the bed.

"There should be a small, round bottle." Lupin explained, all the while trying to coax the shaking girl from her paroxysm with soothing caresses, "It's a green potion with a purple stopper. It may help calm her down." Lupin's tone suggested this was more a prayer than a fact.

Desperately trying to ignore the hysterical cries from the bed, Harry searched through the small pharmacy that had been amassed and arranged in neat, sensible rows by the side of the bed.

"We have to go faster!" The woman's insistent command urged an unseen audience, but spurred Harry on in his frantic hunt and a multitude of rainbow-coloured vials were thrown from their ordered columns. Harry studied the labels intently, trying to shield his ears and block from his mind the gibbered warnings emanating from the sheets.

_Draft of Peace – with added hellebore!, he read the label of a blue, sparkling potion; behind this a large bottle of translucent purple liquid that Harry recognised as sleeping draft; the next bore a bright advertisement on its side, 'Dreameeze' – for an untroubled night's rest. 8 out of 10 wizards say 'Dreameeze' is more effective than leading competitor 'E-Z-Dream'. "We're too late!" The breathless whisper was heavy with dread and gripped Harry's faltering heart in a frosty grip. He studied labels with an increased fervour. Moonstone – white; dissolve in water and drink the solution to regain emotional balance. Moonstone – blue; for sufferers of extreme trauma. The next bottle had no official label, but a tag hung from the purple stopper bearing the words 'For Emergencies' in familiar handwriting. Purple stopper? The jade liquid winked at Harry from the small phial in his hand._

Triumphantly he passed the bottle to Lupin who granted him a relieved smile before turning to the extremely difficult task of administering the potion to his agitated patient. To both men's distress unchecked tears were now tumbling down the woman's anguished face, their shining paths washing away all the urgent panic in her expression, leaving only a miserable core of heavy depression. She continued to claw softly at Lupin as he stroked her hair and made comforting sounds in his attempt to help her swallow the medicine.

"James," she burbled mournfully as she obediently drank the liquid like a lost, unsure child, clinging to the sleeve of a parent's arm. The sobs began again, but this time without their wracking intensity, and as their torment lessened so did Harry's apprehension and he had a chance to ponder her cries.

'James'? Who was she talking to? His father? Harry was certain that she wasn't addressing anyone in the room. Her wild eyes had been vacant and unfocused – no, that wasn't true, Harry thought – her eyes were not focused on anyone he had been able to see. 'James'? Then where did she think she was, to be shouting his father's name? And – Harry shuddered to recollect – to cry his mother's and his own in such horrified urgency, the names tainting the air with their painful associations. Was she aware his parents were dead? Was she aware that to call out their names brought this fact back to Harry with terrible force and clarity? And Sirius, yet another who had left them, and yet another name shouted to the darkness by the fiend staining the room with her calls to the dead. Perhaps that was the reason behind her cries; reaching out with skeletal hands clawing for the deceased. Her alarmed exclamations hadchilled Harry, sounding as they did like a role call of the murdered, each name uttered heavy and cold, inscribed on an impersonal slab of granite marking the loss of each vibrant life snuffed out to barren, dead wick. And to hear his own name shouted, an invitation to join the ranks in the shadows, an irreversible foreshadowing of his own demise. It might happen soon, it might happen later, but the important, no, the inescapable part was that it _would_ happen.

Harry physically shook his head to dislodge the morose train of thought careening through his brain before he pulled in at Depression Station and couldn't get out. He was reading far too much into an emotionally unstable wreck's ramblings. The now still figure that was cocooned in the twisted sheets held none of the menace it had moments previously, but was once more the object of pity. Thanks to Lupin's care and grooming the previously lank and muddied hair was now distinguishable as blonde and many of the scratches and welts that had marred her bruised skin had totally disappeared. However, the clean skin was pale as porcelain, and the remaining injuries stood out in crimson splashes, all the more evident against the eerie white canvas of the gaunt skeleton. Silent now, and still, as the girl – Harry could not call something so weak and fragile a woman – lay quietly in a potion-induced calm sleep, the intruder once more aroused sympathy rather than fear in Harry. In the peace of sleep the lines on her face smoothed out and lifted years from her face. Harry could not believe that she was Lupin's age, her small, pale features seemed barely into their twenties. She didn't look a day older than she did in the photograph of his parents wedding. And yet, something so feeble and vulnerable had twisted to become something that chilled Harry deep in his bones.

As his heartbeat settled, so did Harry's thoughts. The woman's cries were still unnerving, but her words were now a mystery rather than a menace. What was the purpose behind her shouts? James and Lily. She must be aware that they were dead – the tragic story of the Boy who Lived was not an easily escapable one, but she had called for Sirius, too. Only Order members knew of his death; everyone else in the wizarding world still believed the notorious criminal to be dangerous and in hiding. No-one knew the painful truth save Order members – or Death Eaters.

Lupin heaved a sigh and Harry once more saw a glimpse of the weakened man beneath the calm façade before he gathered himself and replaced the composed mask he always wore. Of course Lupin knew. Lupin knew with startling clarity the fates of all his closest friends. One betrayed and murdered, the other framed and killed with his name still in disgrace, and the final rat – the traitor still lurking in the shadows. In that brief moment in which Lupin had allowed a few cracks to appear in his usually flawless pretence Harry saw the loneliest figure he'd ever seen. Hunched shoulders had shrunk Lupin, highlighting his grey hairs and had made the now focused man appear old and frail. Harry wondered what it must be like to keep losing. To make acquaintances and have them flee because of what you were. To build up respect and admiration from his pupils, only to have it swiped away by the wagging of Snape's tongue that spat at the taste of bitter defeat. To make the friends he never thought he could have only to have fate tug each one cruelly from his grip. No wonder he was clinging to this last shred of hope with his remaining energy, desperate for this one last chance of companionship. Harry knew why Lupin barely slept, his constant attention was not to prevent deterioration of the patient's condition, but in case Fate stole into the room in the night and spitefully whisked her away, leaving the man alone once more with only empty sheets and memories for company.

Lupin was busying himself now, tenderly tidying the sheets that were tangled and crumpled by the woman's struggles. After the covers were smoothed to his satisfaction he inched open the window behind him. The cooling breeze was welcome; the crowded room had become hot with fear, and the fresh air circled the room, chasing out the remaining demons lurking in the corners. Lupin picked up his wand and muttered an inaudible incantation. Harry recognised with surprise the silver, shadowy bird that flew from the end of Lupin's wand and away through the trees with unexpected speed. It was the same spell Dumbledore had used to summon Hagrid two years ago when Harry had left Krum to be stunned by Crouch Jr.

"I'm very sorry about all this Harry." Lupin apologised. His face was tired and drained even compared to his usual pallid appearance but his concern was solely reserved for Harry, who felt that of the three people in the room he was the one who least deserved it. "I don't want you to be worried by -" he halted, picking his words very carefully, "Don't take what you heard too seriously, her mind is a confused and unpredictable place at the minute."

Much as he tried, Harry couldn't contain his curiosity. "Why?" The words burst forth uncontrollably. "What's happened to her?"

"That is what we are endeavouring to find out, Harry." A gentle voice replied. Harry whirled around in shock, to face the wizard in the doorway.

Dumbledore's expression was serious as he entered the room and strode to the head of the bed.

"You have given her the potion I assume, Remus?"

"Yes, Headmaster." Lupin was hovering uncertainly; now that a higher authority was present he seemed to feel free to lose a little control.

"I wonder if you could perhaps describe to me what happened."

"Well, Harry and I were just sat talking, there was no stimulus to rouse her or anything, when all of a sudden she sat bolt upright and -"

Lupin stopped dead as, with incredible timing, the girl on the bed gave a second demonstration. There were no shouts this time, no tears, but just the quick, panicked breathing of someone in utter shock, echoed by the startled pants of Lupin and Harry. If possible, this was more eerie than the wails.

Lupin darted to the small table where he had left the potion but Dumbledore stopped him with a wave of his hand. Silently, Dumbledore knelt by the bedside and took the woman's hand in his.

Harry watched, amazed, as the woman turned to face the old wizard.

"Are you real?" the expression was of breathless surprise.

"I am indeed, Miss DeMoitie." His tone was soft, reassuring.

'Miss DeMoitie', Harry was sure, now, that this was Ella, squinted at Dumbledore and rumpled her nose in a vaguely accusatory manner.

"You can't be. Nothing here is real." She chuckled faintly, in a way that suggested that there wasn't anything slightly funny about the situation. "That's because there is nothing."

Her gaze glazed over once more as she turned away from Dumbledore, and again, she seemed to stare into a different place.

"Where is 'here'?"

"Nothing."

"Could you describe your surroundings for me, Miss DeMoitie?"

"Nothing." She snapped impatiently. "Nothing. There's nothing."

"You are in an empty place?"

"No." Her face screwed up angrily. "There is nothing. Not even a horizon. The sky isn't blue, it's no colour at all. It's empty like black, and blank like white. It's like if you mixed black and white together and sucked all the colour from it."

Harry knew she wasn't talking about grey and felt just a little shudder.

"It's not the sky, anyway," she continued, "because the sky stops when it hits the land, but there's no land, there's no up or down either. I could be upside down for all I know, I'm just floating about not knowing which way's sideways because there's nothing to see, just suspended in the air. But there's no air, either."

She looked back at Dumbledore, sneering.

"And you can't be real, because there's nothing here. Even _I'm _not here, I'm not real. I don't have a body and I can't make a sound, so why should you be able to? No, you're just in my head like everything else is." She sighed. "I'd go crazy if it wasn't for the fact I could talk to myself."

Harry felt sick at the sad irony of her last statement. But that seemed to be all, no more information was forthcoming and presently she lay back on the mattress and closed her eyes.

Dumbledore rose, looking very grave indeed.

"I wonder, Harry, if you would be so kind as to give us a few moments alone."

Resigned to the fact he wouldn't be getting answers for a while Harry nodded and retreated to his room. Dumbledore would not begin speaking until Harry had shut his door, but if he strained his hearing, and lay with his ear at the base of the door he could just make out the puzzling conversation.

"May I just extend my thanks and say that you're doing very well, Remus. As always."

"How is _she_ doing?"

"Physically, she's recovering remarkably well, an encouraging fact which I'm sure is solely to your credit."

Lupin didn't sound remotely encouraged. "And – otherwise?"

"Remus, this is a very unusual situation. You must understand that anything I say to you will be merely assumption and speculation."

"Headmaster, I would gladly settle for blind guesses at the minute."

"Very well, but the puzzle is complex and we may find ourselves lost down the wrong paths altogether. A good place to start is where we are certain. She is alive, something I must admit I did not expect, and her body is recovering. However, her injuries themselves are perplexing. I spoke with Poppy at great length and we are agreed that many of her wounds appeared accidental; a messy result of her hasty and somewhat crazed flight through the woods here. However, it troubles me to say that the more serious of her injuries appear deliberate and -" there was a concerned pause, "oddly familiar."

Harry headbutted the wall in cold shock as Remus said, his pained response so quiet Harry's tense neck ached with the effort of trying to hear, "Voldemort."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, sighing deeply, "They do appear typical of his handiwork."

"But they were fresh."

"So, she has escaped from his captivity? A rare feat, I don't believe it's ever been achieved before." Dumbledore's tone had changed, it was lightly questioning, but encouraging, as though simply guiding a student through a difficult Transfiguration problem.

"No. No, she couldn't, not against Voldemort. And he doesn't keep people after he's finished with them, certainly not as he's passing through death and reincarnation."

Dumbledore kept silent, creating a pool of silence begging for Lupin to cast his thoughts and theories to hook the elusive truth.

"Headmaster, there's something else. The marks, not only are they fresh, they're exactly the same as – as before."

"You're certain?"

"I stared at them for hours on end, the sight has been burned on the back of my eyes ever since then, I'm positive they're exactly the same."

Dumbledore sounded almost pleased. "Poppy said something similar."

"But why? Why would someone replicate it? Unless…"

"Go on."

Lupin teetered on the edge of a sentence for so long that Harry thought Dumbledore had finally cast a silencing charm around the room, but Lupin finally broke the silence with a frustrated growl so uncharacteristic that Harry gripped the rug in fear.

"No. I can't make it work, I can't understand it. She _died_. She left the photographs, she disappeared totally. She was gone, Sirius said so."

"I am aware of what Sirius said."

In the silence that followed Harry wrinkled his nose, glasses banging his forehead in confusion. He had forgotten about the photographs, but they confused him more. People who had died didn't leave their photographs, he had plenty of treasured photographs to prove this, so where had the troublesome waif in the bed gone?

When Lupin next spoke his voice was quiet and filled with remorse. "I thought he did it, you know. For so long I blamed Sirius, I was certain that he'd revealed every secret he'd been entrusted with and killed everyone I'd ever loved. Of course I know different now," He added hastily, "but it made so much sense. It still makes more sense than anything I can come up with now."

"Sometimes the truth is unbelievable and very often it is painful. That is why lies are so popular. It is quite an enjoyable freedom to create our own truths."

"She can't have been alive all this time. She would've found me, she would've found _us_." This was a desperate plea.

"I'm sure she would have. Remus, I firmly believe that the minute Ella was free then she would have torn through hell and high water to reach you, arriving on your doorstep exhausted and bloodied but in the arms of someone who loves her."

"Headmaster, it's been fifteen years. Why only now? Where has she been?"

"I think the first thing to establish is where she hasn't been. If she had been in Voldemort's custody then I believe she would have been recovered with his other victims when he was defeated at Godric's Hollow."

"And Sirius said she'd disappeared," Remus cut in.

"I do not doubt Sirius' word. Sirius would have wanted her to be alive as much as you and if he believed that she was no longer living then I think it is safe to assume she wasn't."

"But she can't have died. People can't come back from the dead."

"This is, indeed, a sad truth that we all must accept. So, where has Miss DeMoitie been?"

"Nowhere." The frustration returned in desperate waves but Dumbledore accepted the exasperated exclamation as an answer.

"Precisely where I imagine she has been."

"Nowhere?"

"She said so herself."

"She also told me that she was going shopping for more Floo powder. Sir, she has been rambling for days, talking to people in her sleep, talking to me as though I was Sirius, repeating snatches of past conversations from – then. It's only today they've become so drastic and – real."

Harry swallowed in pity, that Lupin had to suffer through the disturbing episodes when he, Harry, was asleep. As he did so he inhaled dust from the floor and his lungs felt as though they were tearing as he attempted to cough silently, body convulsing in muffled pain.

"Although Miss DeMoitie is clearly in a fragile mental state, I don't believe we should totally disregard these 'ramblings'. The pattern of these attacks seems to imply that her brain is running through recent events in an attempt to catch up with reality and bring her back to a fully aware state consciousness."

"Everything she said came from the weeks before she disappeared." Agreed Remus, his voice distant as he pondered Dumbledore's words. "So what was the last one?"

"Ah, another piece of the jigsaw, although it may not have appeared as such. I think this is where the young lady has been in her absence. I had my suspicions, and our conversation before merely supports my idea."

Dumbledore sounded pleased as he announced his hypothesis, but the tone soon gave way to pity as he solemnly addressed Lupin.

"Now Remus, what I am about to say you may not like to hear, but you have asked me for my opinion and I would not dream of withholding it from you. When Miss DeMoitie disappeared over a decade ago I don't think she went anywhere you or I are ever likely to see, and we should be glad we won't."

"She said there wasn't any sky or any ground. Can there be such a place?" Harry got the impression that Remus did not doubt there was, but rather prayed that it did not exist.

"No sky, no ground, no air; nothing. I believe that Miss DeMoitie became a potential life, lingering in a place between the real world and oblivion."

"A potential life?"

"Yes, a potential life, ready to come back to the world when conditions are right to accommodate it once more."

"She's exactly the same as she always was." Harry struggled to hear Remus' comment, his ponderings murmured to himself.

"This is consistent with my theory. There space would not exist, and nor, I suspect, would time. If I am correct it would explain why she has returned in such a state, no time has passed for her for wounds to heal. This is all pure speculation of course, I have no proof that there is such a place, but given the circumstances I suggest that it is possible."

"And if it's true?"

"I find it difficult to counsel you, Remus. I may be wrong, and even if I should be correct there has been no precedent from which advice, good or bad, can be drawn. However, I will give you a warning. If my conjecture is accurate then Miss DeMoitie has experienced a loneliness and disorientation few of us can comprehend and for an indeterminate amount of time. Not to forget her experiences previously. I do not wish to crush your hopes completely, as many people have endured similar ordeals and survived, remember that Sirius thrived thanks to your care and assistance and I can think of no-one better suited to the task of helping Miss DeMoitie to recuperate, but I do ask you to be prepared. It may not be the same Ella you knew who comes through these challenges."

In the following silence Harry could almost see Lupin, sunk in the chair, head in his hands and fingers wound in his hair as he was wont to do when he was particularly tense.

"However," Dumbledore's voice became cheerful, a little too late, Harry felt. "I am always amazed at the resilience your little group showed, and I have no doubt that she has lost none of her spirit. And I am forgetting the silver lining I have attempted to drown in cloud, she is alive Remus, and that is something none of us could have hoped."

Harry heard movement as somebody rose.

"Now where is Harry?" Dumbledore asked, voice raised, "He makes a splendid cup of tea."

Harry hastily scrambled onto his bed and picked up the nearest book from the small bookshelf under the window and flipped it open just in time to smile innocently at Dumbledore as he peered round the door.

"Reading Harry? An exemplary use of time, and I daresay Professor Snape would be pleased with your enthusiasm, but I must interrupt and beg you for a cup of tea."

Harry nodded, struggling to disguise his lack of breath after his urgent dash and placed the Advanced Potions book he had been holding upside down on the bedside table and hurried down the stairs in front of the headmaster, certain that Dumbledore had not been deceived for a moment.

Dumbledore was silent as Harry busied himself with the kettle and only spoke to remind him that now the cupboards were stocked he would take four sugars. When they were both seated with steaming cups in front of them Dumbledore fixed Harry with a serious stare.

"Now, I wonder how much of that you heard?"

Harry knew there was no use denying it and while he didn't reply, he stared into his tea guiltily.

"I'm sure you have many questions, Harry, concerning the young woman in Remus' bed."

Harry agreed, while he had heard some explanations they were more confusing than the questions themselves, and new puzzles had sprung from what he had heard, demanding fresh answers. Dumbledore smiled.

"Well, I am not going to explain anything to you, it shall be your punishment for eavesdropping."

Harry let his mouth fall open, feeling it was the height of cruelty to leave him so confused, replacing answers with further riddles. His irritation was further provoked by the knowledge that it was his fault for listening.

Dumbledore's tone became serious, "I would ask you not to ask Remus anything either." Harry could not disguise his disappointment. "I'm sorry Harry, but the poor man has a lot to think about himself at the minute, as your eager ears will no doubt have gathered. However, he has told me previously that he has been entertaining you with stories from his own time at Hogwarts?"

"Yes." Harry replied, raising a little from his sulk.

"Do you enjoy his stories?"

Harry nodded keenly. Dumbledore smiled into his tea, and for a moment he seemed distant and wistful, before pulling back into focus and commenting,

"I hope you're not learning any tricks or bad habits from your father and his friends. They would be a terrible influence I have no doubt." He sipped more tea and nodded, obviously pleased. "I think that this activity will benefit Remus, too, and I daresay if you have the patience to listen to the beginnings of this whole story you may find some of the answers to any questions you may have acquired today."

Slurping the dregs from his cup, Dumbledore rose. "I must thank you once more, Harry. You are doing me a great service and I know that Remus appreciates your company. He has spent a great deal of his life alone. And now, I am afraid I have other business to attend to. I shall see you in September if not before Harry." He nodded a quick goodbye and stepped into the fading August sunlight. The door swung shut in the breeze and when Harry glanced out of the window onto the rich grass there was no trace of him.

Harry finally gathered his courage and returned to the master bedroom, carefully arranging his face so as not to betray his guilt and stepping in to find Lupin re-arranging the potion bottles once more. When he heard Harry enter he turned and smiled, not an inch of his expression revealing his inner conflict, but Harry noticed a slight shake in his hand as he raised them in the air.

"You caught me," explained Lupin, "therapeutic cleaning. I'm sure it's a disease."

Harry allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch hesitantly upwards, despite the awkward ache that weighed down in his chest.

"I'm sorry about today Harry. I haven't been considering how hard this must be for you. And if you would prefer to stay at The Burrow I'm sure Molly would be glad to take you."

"No!" Harry cried, a little too urgently. The Burrow was the place Harry considered closest to home, other than Hogwarts, and Harry would have loved to spend the remaining weeks of summer with Ron, but he didn't think he could face the red-head's amazement that Harry could come so close to unravelling a mystery and then walk away. He also couldn't face coming so close to unravelling a mystery and then walking away. Harry remembered with a guilty jolt that he was really supposed to be there to help Lupin. "I want to help still." Harry amended.

"Are you sure?" Lupin's eyebrow raised in its familiar curve.

"Definitely." Harry said firmly and Lupin relaxed along with his brow.

"I shouldn't lay this on you Harry, but I must admit that I am glad of the company. Especially of someone who has become such a considerate and capable adult. Your mother would be very proud."

Harry felt pride swell in his chest in a warm tide. Never before had he received such respect and gratitude. He had experienced admiration, awe and pity before, in plentiful abundance, but never on the level that Lupin managed to communicate with him. For once Harry felt he was being praised not for who he was, or what he had done, but for what he tried to be, and the compliment for what he strived to do was so much more fulfilling. And, he realised, this was the first time he had been called an adult in a sincere manner, free of condescension. He felt stripped of myth and fame, or vicious rumour and for once was able to be considered as a human; Lupin had weighed up not Harry Potter, or the Boy who Lived, but plain Harry, and he had liked what he had found. And just plain Harry could not have been more delighted.

"I would also like to say how grateful I am that you have not dived straight into the questions I know must be plaguing you about what you heard between myself and Professor Dumbledore."

Harry gulped in surprise at the fact he had been exposed by both victims of his spying. Lupin looked at him with a wry grin that spanned all the way to his eyes.

"Oh, come now Harry. You would not be a Marauder's son if you had not been curious. But you've shown an admirable self control that I doubt either your father or Sirius would have managed." His smile dissolved into a faraway affectionate twist in his lips. "However, you deserve to know what is going on, but I'm afraid you must bear with me, it's rather a long story and we older people tend to dwell in memory."

He sighed softly and glanced at the girl who remained peaceful in the warm embrace of undisturbed sleep.

"You never get used to losing people Harry. Nobody's grip is strong enough to hold back fate. And as you get older you accept that the only way to keep people alive is not with your hands, but with this." Lupin tapped the side of his head gently. "I know it's a terrible cliché, but they're all still alive, every time I close my eyes I can hear them breathing, talking, laughing. As long as we remember them they're still alive."

* * *

Sorry for soppiness, but they both need a bit of cheering up.

Little notes on chapter bits…

Method of communication – just a theory as seen in GoF (pg. 486 UK edition)

"'No,' said Dumbledore swiftly. 'Stay here.'  
He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. Harry saw something silvery dart out of it and streak away through the trees like a ghostly bird."

As for the names of potions – Dreemeeze and E-Z-dream – it wasn't a lack of imagination (not totally, anyway). The similarity of names represents a link between potions like that between the People's Front of Judea and the Judean People's Front. Not the same at all. Splitters! (disclaimer: Monty Python!)

Phew! That chapter done, the next should be up very soon – it's nearly all written… getting to the 'good' bits now!

Reviews are much appreciated – who am I kidding? I live for them! Your typical review-whore plea – R&R!

Sham


	18. Family Matters

A/N: Phew - another chapter done! We're getting to the 'good part' so each chapter needs more and more tweaking and refinement to fit the plot. Sorry it takes so long between updates - I have a horrible habit of flicking between fics, and embarking upon new ones... accept this as a peace offering...

(Oh, disclaimer: everything belongs to JK Rowling, except for Ella, Laina, Beatrice and Selby. And the rather rambling plot.)

* * *

Lupin was as good as his word. They had migrated to the kitchen (after Lupin had set up all the necessary alert spells) and as soon as Lupin began preparing the dinner he launched into his story. He seemed to want to pamper Harry, concerned that he had been neglecting his duties, with a veritable feast by the looks of the mountains of food he was preparing. However, Harry's real hunger was for explanations.

"I'm sure it didn't escape your notice, Harry, that Sirius never really got on terribly well with his family."

Harry shrugged, what was there he could say? Of course he had noticed; an enraged hag screaming obscenities at his godfather and friends was not easily ignored.

"I heard a little." Harry also knew that Sirius had left home in unfortunate circumstances, but exactly what those circumstances were he had never discovered. He leaned forward eagerly, perhaps Lupin was going to divulge details.

However, no such information was forthcoming as Lupin merely sighed and remarked sadly, "A little? Yes, most of the school knew 'a little' about the tensions in the Black family, after all, Sirius and Regulus were among the most popular students in their respective years - never mind the entire school - and the two made no attempt to disguise their animosity toward each other. And, of course, gossip shoots through the wizarding world like lightning through water, sending its buzzing currents through parents into their children. However, there was one person slightly more obsessed with Sirius' turbulent home life than any other."

Harry had already guessed who even before Lupin said the name, and an angry knot twisted in his stomach as his suspicions were confirmed.

"Severus was always alert for leverage against us, your father and Sirius especially, and so it wasn't totally surprising that he attacked that particular weakness with relish; besides, Sirius gave as good as he got. Still," Lupin's face clouded over with a mixture of sorrow and regret, "it was slightly concerning just how fixated he was with Sirius being a 'blood traitor' - as he and his ignorant Slytherin friends constantly put it."

"Idiots." Growled Harry, the image of Malfoy's mouth framing the word 'Mudblood' stoking his desire to throttle every pompous git who believed in the so-called 'purity' of magical blood.

"Yes, they were really. But we were no better." Remus said fairly, "As soon as we caught wind of some scandal from the Snape family Sirius made it his business to use the information against Severus."

"Serves him right. I hope they found out he was the product of an illicit relationship between man and aardvark."

Harry's angry outburst caught Lupin off guard and he let slip a guilty smile before hastily checking himself. He rested his forehead in his hand and inhaled deeply before responding.

"No Harry. Just after Christmas in our sixth year Snape Sr. died."

Harry fiddled guiltily with the tablecloth before Lupin continued quietly.

"He hanged himself rather than serve a fifteen year sentence in Azkaban."

The air in Harry's lungs decided it no longer wanted to be in the presence of someone capable of such inappropriate insensitivity (especially when it involved aardvarks) and departed swiftly, leaving Harry winded and reeling from the shock punch of Lupin's revelation.

"What's the time?" Ella broke the companiable silence and shifted her head to look up at Remus. The pair were curled up together on the couch in front of the fire, a privilege extended only to Marauders and anyone Sirius Black wanted to fondle there. And Beatrice Milhorn, by unspoken agreement, but this was only because she could had biceps the size of Quaffles and a punch that would find a brick wall no difficult obstacle. Fortunately for the Marauders Beatrice was, like many large, imposing people, very shy and tended to hide herself away in her room, where her intimidating size could be more easily disguised from the outside world, leaving the couch free for Remus and Ella to enjoy their rare and precious time alone.

"You've got a watch." Remus replied.

"It's broken."

"Why do you wear it then?"

"Comfort. Habit. Weighs my arm down. Take your pick." Ella shrugged into Remus' chest. "Anyway, even a broken clock is right twice a day."

"True." Remus nodded at this old adage. "True, that's deep and philosophical and totally useless all at the same time. That same time being 3:13 if you trust your watch." Which Remus didn't – the last few desperate rays of pale sunlight having been dragged over the horizon some hours ago.

"Just shut up, Mr Pedantic, and give me the time."

"Five to eight."

Ella's sigh would barely have been noticeable were it not for the fact their bodies were moulded together so that the heave of her lungs resonated against his. At eight o'clock their private time would be shattered as the Quidditch players returned from training. Ella would be turfed off the settee to make room for the loud, sweaty combination of James, Sirius and Quidditch anecdotes. Remus felt guilty for abandoning Ella so carelessly, but he couldn't, even if he wanted to, ignore his undeserved blessing of unconditional friendship. Marauders came before everything else, as it had always been, and always would be, no matter who else he so foolishly allowed close. After all, Remus thought, absently gripping Ella's hand possessively, it wouldn't be long before he had to give this particular addiction up, he could not risk himself becoming more attached.

At any moment James and Sirius would bounce through the portrait hole, and their familiar presence on their couch would provide the only constant that Remus could cling to that was not the steady, regular growth of the dreaded moon. Ella, for her part, would join Laina and together they would 'go and rescue Lily from the endless, hair-filled tedium of Heather and Bridget'. Remus thought this was a rather cruel analysis of their fellow Gryffindor sixth years, but, as Ella pointed out, he'd never had to endure two hours of intense make-up discussion and celebrity dissection.

But even Lily's lot in this arrangement was better than poor Peter's. For the first few weeks he had sat with the increasingly affectionate couple, but Third Wheel syndrome soon took hold and every Tuesday and Thursday at seven o'clock, when Sirius and James gathered their Quidditch robes and left, Peter would tactfully slip away. The first time it had been a whole forty minutes before he realised that Wormtail was missing, and every time Remus saw the silent, hunched back retreat to their dorm or the library he felt a fresh stab of guilt about excluding Peter, but Peter never betrayed any signs of it affecting him, so Remus buried the thought.

The calamitous sound of laughter announced the arrival of Sirius and James, and Ella immediately sprang up to allow Sirius to flop backwards over the arm of the settee and grin upside down at Remus from his feet.

"Phew. I kick arse." Was all Sirius offered by way of a greeting.

Remus' reply was just as inadequate.

"Ooh! The raised eyebrow of condescending amusement! Don't look directly at it!" cried James, shielding his eyes and collapsing into an armchair. It was too late for Sirius, however, who began to twitch in violent spasms as he clutched at his heart. The dramatic paroxyms were only stopped by the appearance of Peter.

"What's wrong with Padfoot now?" he asked, settling down on the rug at James' feet.

James leaned down to whisper loudly in his ear, "Snivellus asked him to marry him."

Both Peter and James laughed as Sirius gave a final hysterical wail, shuddered, choked, and went limp, sliding further onto the couch where Remus sat, silent. Severus Snape was a very touchy subject at present. The whole school knew about the scandal of his father, Abaddon Snape, who was to serve fifteen years in Azkaban (by all accounts a life sentence; even if his body survived the term it would not be his mind that walked out with it) for undisclosed reasons. Rumour spreading round the castle was that Abaddon Snape was the true identity of the notorious Lord Voldemort who had been causing chaos and terror over the past few years. Remus knew, with disgust, where this rumour had begun, and even if he had not seen the satisfaction upon Sirius' face as the lie spread he would still have doubted its truth. If the Ministry had indeed caught the man who was slowly planting a deep-rooted fear in the wizarding world as his crimes and influence increased at an alarming rate, surely it would be front page news, rather than a small article, hidden in the corner of a middle page, embarrassed by its lack of fact and information and only noticed by the school thanks to the Marauders' efforts of pointing it out to everyone. Remus had protested, more vehemently than ever before, this act of cruelty sickening him more than any of its predecessors. However, Sirius angrily reminded him of an incident the previous May, when Sirius' latest Howler from his mother had been recreated in bright green graffiti around the Hogwarts corridors and Snivellus hadn't been able to keep the smirk from his face every time someone read the excerpts aloud. The thought of the clueless, ignorant first years staring in excited bewilderment at 'filthy little maggot not fit to bear the family name' scrawled in ugly letters across the walls had shut Remus' mouth, but he could not join in the amusement at the expense of the no doubt traumatised Snape.

Remus looked away uncomfortably and noticed, to his surprise, that Ella was still there. James, too, stopped sniggering and asked,

"Alright Ella? You look worried." He addressed Remus. "Moony, did you not give her a goodbye kiss?"

"No. I mean, well, no, he didn't, but that's not what, I just…" Ella blushed and breathed hard to re-align her thoughts. "I wondered where Laina was."

Sirius twisted round so he was sat on the couch rather than sprawled across it. "Your telepathy a bit off?" he asked, and nodded sympathetically. "I can blow through your ears if you want – perhaps there's a blockage."

Aside from her habitual blushing, Ella, unlike her sister, never seemed to be affected by anything. Whether she never felt intense joy or absolute anger, or whether she just could not express them properly, Remus had never been able to figure out. The small wrinkle in her nose was the only thing that registered that Sirius' words had upset her.

"Oh shut up Pads." These words came not from Remus, but from James. "You've made enough money off that to owe it some respect."

Sirius grinned, but Remus was unnerved by James' comments. He knew James liked Ella, and he had been told more than once, "she's good for you, mate", but he never expected him to defend her against his best friend. Was this a new tactic for impressing Lily? Or were these subtle changes; his reprimanding Sirius, his occasional reluctance to see through the more offensive pranks, his ever-so-slightly better behaviour, were these all signs that James Potter was growing up? Hard to believe it was not just all part of some grand prank that Remus hadn't seen through yet.

"She's gone off to the hospital wing." Remus assumed the situation was not desperate, as, for one, Ella had suspected nothing, and secondly Sirius was still lounging on the couch with an unrivalled nonchalance. Although Sirius would never admit it, not even to himself, Remus knew that despite their fights he cared deeply about Laina and would be right by her side if the situation was anything but utterly trivial. James continued, confirming Remus' suspicion. "It's nothing, she just clashed badly with Selby, that's all."

Selby was the Gryffindor Keeper, a huge, burly seventh year who easily topped 6 feet and tended to cast everything in the same room in shadow. He was a brilliant keeper, and was only beaten to the position of Quidditch Captain by James by the small flaw that his brains wouldn't fill a teacup, although his huge bear hands often accidentally crushed them. Despite this he had a gentle temperament, except towards the Quaffle, which he batted away from the hoops on twelve-mile trajectories, and was probably right now torturing himself about the accident.

"It was Laina's fault," added Sirius, "Selby's easily four times her size, she should know by now not to try to get past him. It's the equivalent of running into a brick wall." Sirius flew his finger into the palm of his hand in imitation and began to snicker.

"So it's that funny, is it?" A voice from behind them trembled with barely contained anger.

Laina was a formidable sight. Her entire position was hostile, ramrod straight from indignant head to foot, her arms were folded and her fingers were digging so hard into her arms that white circles framed her fingertips. Her trip to the hospital wing obviously hadn't been successful as blood was caked above her frowning eyebrow with dried, flaking paths of brown tracing down to her cheek, which was puffy and where a bruise already beginning to blossom. Worst was her expression, which contained more fury than Remus had seen from her yet, her lip quivered, desperate to yell, and her scowling eyes were just slits that shot livid jets of wrath at the startled Sirius. Laina was often angry with little or no just cause, but this was the face of someone highly affronted, and - Remus couldn't quite fit the flicker in the eyes - a little disappointed?

Sirius leapt to his feet, eyes fixed on the still red wound, avoiding the boiling rage billowing his way in blistering waves. "Shit Laina, are you OK?" He rounded the settee instantly and held her arm protectively.

"Don't even touch me." She hissed, snaking disgustedly out of his grasp. Her voice contained such venom that Sirius recoiled as though he had been slapped.

"Yes I'm OK." She continued, studying Sirius with such revulsion that it may have been no more than a maggot that was squirming uncomfortably under the heat of her gaze. "It's Severus Snape who's _not_ fucking OK."

Sirius' features contorted, wavering between feigned innocence and remorse, a defensive frown flickering across the rapidly shifting expressions as Sirius hastily searched for the façade that would most appease the furious Laina.

"What's happened?" he attempted, but she cut him off instantly.

"Don't try any of that shit with me, you know damn well what's happened. And 'what's happened' has traumatised the guy so bloody much, Black, that he's had to be calmed down by Madam Pomfrey."

Laina had not addressed Sirius by his surname since the beginning of their relationship. 'Black' looked shocked, and Remus' shocked gaze caught James squirming uncomfortably in his chair, his face a tortured image of guilt and shame. James' features reflected Remus' own inner turmoil; Severus was so upset by their gossip that he had had to go to Madam Pomfrey. Severus, the most private, insular soul on the planet was having to be comforted at the hands of the school nurse, and Remus knew that this would be the greatest torture for Snape. He hung his head.

"The worst thing is," Laina continued, her voice low to avoid the attention of the remaining stragglers in the common room, "she doesn't believe him, she thinks he's been so affected by everything that's happened that he's seeing things. But I know he's not. And I know that only one person could achieve a spell so original, so smart and so downright cruel, Sirius."

Remus was baffled; spreading malicious gossip and newspapers wasn't magic, it was cruel but it wasn't smart and it certainly wasn't original. He had no idea what Laina was growling about, but as he watched the ashamed blush invade James' cheeks he realised that James did. Peter's mouth was open in fascinated incomprehension, but Sirius' mouth was set in a firm, defensive line. When he spoke his reply was defiant and cold.

"He deserved it."

Laina exploded. "Deserved it? Every mirror he looks in he sees his dad's face? Nobody deserves that kind of psychological disturbance – unless it's his festering git of a father!"

"Don't you get it though?" Sirius' voice was calm, but lined with condescension. "He's going to _become_ his festering git of a father. We were just helping him see the error of his ways before it's too late."

"You?" she scoffed, despite the situation. "I hardly think you are the right person to be showing anyone the error of their ways. You don't even know what you're interfering in!"

"I know enough!"

"Just because you spread stories around the school doesn't mean you know the truth."

"And I suppose you do?"

Laina smirked in perverse satisfaction. "I know more than you."

She turned and studied the common room. Many of the students had slipped out during the first heated shouts, recognising that this was not an average fight for their entertainment. The few whose curiosity had instructed them to remain and eavesdrop wilted under Laina's glare and hurriedly pretended they hadn't been listening. Laina's voice dropped to a whisper, meant only for Sirius, but the passion behind her clenched teeth forced her words out into a hiss that all the Marauders could hear.

"I overheard Professor Belvidere telling Madam Pomfrey. She said 'the poor lad's suffered enough at the hands of his father, it's almost a blessing he's dead'."

"Dead?" Peter couldn't stop the amazed whisper escaping his lips.

"Yes." Laina replied shortly, before studying Sirius who had stopped, frozen. "He hanged himself. Severus found out this afternoon." As she finished, her voice broke, this time not in anger, but in sorrow. Remus saw with astonishment the tears that welled in her eyes and threatened to roll down her flushed cheeks.

Remus was ashamed and sad and disgusted and confused, but most of all he was shocked. He studied the faces around him. Ella was still behind him, biting her fingernails nervously, almost her entire fist in her mouth as she stared at Laina. Peter was the very embodiment of amazement, mouth agape, gawping first at Laina, then Sirius, then James, who looked stunned, as though he himself had crashed into Harold Selby. His eyes were wide open, but his sight was somewhere else entirely, unfocused and clouded with remorse. His lip was wobbling dangerously and his hands were fidgeting anxiously with his tie, in an action that echoed eerily to Snape Sr.'s demise.

At first Laina's words seemed to have staggered Sirius, but within moments the shock had been absorbed and his face hardened.

"So what of you?" He asked, his voice quiet but threatening.

"What of me?"

"Well, you march in here, and accuse, righteous and furious – but you're really no better, are you?"

"What?"

"I told what I knew to the school, yes, but it was information that any of them could have found out for themselves. But _you,_ in your desperation to chastise me, decide it's OK to tell secret, private information of Severus Snape to the single group of people who would love to use it against him! So, in a way, wouldn't you say you're worse?"

"I – it's not – " The tears that had been threatening to fall tasted the heated air as they rolled down her cheeks, only to be hastily wiped away as signs of weakness. In her frustration she fumbled for words, all the while her cheeks glowing red hot with new guilt. Gripping to the safety of anger she found new articulacy. "It's not the same at all. I'm not the one who sits in my perfect little life and judges others. It's not your place to give Snape advice, and if you had the faintest idea about the kind of families other less perfect people came from I'm sure you wouldn't dare to."

Remus winced, Peter flinched and James was startled from his hypnotic state. None of them were sure of the exact details of Sirius' home life, but they were aware of enough to know that Sirius would not react well to that comment. They all braced themselves for the thunderous shout, the terrible tantrum, perhaps even, if Sirius' temper was left unchecked, the blow that would land on Laina, who herself seemed to remember that she had gone over the line as she clapped a hand to her mouth.

Remus was certain that Sirius had not revealed anything more to Laina than was common knowledge to the school, but even this was enough to make her want to retract her words.

"I'm so sorry Sirius. I forgot, I was just so mad, I didn't remember, I didn't think. I just get crazy when people talk about family, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Her apologies trailed off as she, like the others, was taken aback by Sirius' reaction. His face had become hard as granite, his lips a taut, twitching line, his hands were fixed firmly to his side, fists clenched so tight that his knuckles gleamed white.

The air was stifling from the crackling fire and the bitter tension that polluted it, choking the silent group as everyone struggled to breathe with apprehension. The lack of reaction was wholly disconcerting and all were waiting for an explosion, some violent emotion that signalled the return of the Sirius Black they knew. Laina herself looked as though she would gladly accept a full torrent of physical and verbal abuse in place of the cold, regulated tone that Sirius then addressed her with.

"I can only suggest you follow your own damn advice." He turned smartly and without another word stalked quietly up to his room. The only thing that broke the heavy silence in the common room was the sound of mortified sniffling as Laina tried to hide the tears of fury and guilt that mingled on her cheeks.

Over two hours later, when the boys finally dared venture up to their room they found the hangings drawn firmly shut around Sirius' bed. As each undressed swiftly, their gazes fixed on the shrouded bed, no-one said a word.

* * *

This began life as a 6 line paragraph, and has now developed into CAPS!Laina and semi-angsty Sirius fun. Tune in next time for some more twin revelation! Duhn duhn dunnnnnn...

Sham


	19. Skeletons in the closet

While Lupin busied himself carefully arranging the steaming vegetables on the table in the catering equivalent of flower arranging, Harry simply gawked at the plate in front of him. His tongue had swollen, burdening his mouth like a wad of cotton, and was completely unable to articulate anything. This was all right though, because even if he'd had the capacity to respond he had no idea what he would have said.

Lupin sat opposite him, and studied him for a moment. Harry met his gaze and noticed that his expression was unusually serious.

"Harry, in my haste to enlighten you I have knowingly, yet unthinkingly revealed personal information that it is not my business to divulge. To admit that there is nothing stopping you finding out on your own is a poor excuse and I take responsibility for my carelessness. However, I hope you will allow me to ask a large favour and keep what I have told you to yourself, and display the tact I credit you with?"

Harry nodded, and Lupin laughed.

"Oh dear, Harry. I'm afraid I've given you lockjaw just in time for dinner. I suppose you won't be wanting potatoes then?"

As Lupin spooned himself a generous helping of the roast potatoes in front of him, Harry felt his mouth loosen into a responding laugh, part humour, part relief.

"Potatoes would be fine, thank you."

"And stories, too, no doubt?" Lupin asked, as he obliged Harry's first request.

"Yes. Please. But, I wanted to ask, or rather I wondered -" Harry faltered, not sure how to put into words the thing that was troubling him.

"What is it Harry?"

Harry dropped his head and focussed on the table in front of him. "I know it was cruel, what Sirius did," he muttered, tracing the grain with his eyes, following the chocolate threads that dissected the honey-golden wood. The vindictiveness of his erstwhile idols still repulsed him, and no matter what the motivation, the latest tale sat heavy in his stomach. "I know it was cruel," Harry repeated, "but Laina's reaction seemed a little extreme."

Harry raised his eyes to Lupin's, and found to his surprise that they twinkled in smiling agreement. His mouth twisted in an elusive, wry curve.

"Yes, I thought so, too. Especially as Laina did not particularly care for Severus anyway, except for his use as ammunition for fighting with Sirius. So the next morning I asked the one person who would know."

Ella was busy making intricate webs with her hands, a rare habit that she adopted when she was particularly upset. "Yes, well." Her eyes were fixed on her restless fingers. "Well." She repeated, "You see, Laina's always had a bit of a thing about, you know, private family stuff."

"What about it?" Remus' interest was piqued.

"Keeping it private." Said Ella flatly, her gaze still intent on her fidgeting fingers.

Remus took the warning against further probing and, with no little effort, resolved to leave the matter alone. After all, his own secret kept lurking, jaws snapping, in the back of his mind. He cursed his weakness as he inhaled the soothing shampoo scent of Ella's hair. He had promised himself he would end this fling, this momentary lapse in self-control. For a werewolf there was no hope for a normal relationship, and he had let this drag on for too long. It was fortunate, Remus thought, that he had such strength of character and could give it up any time he wanted. Of course Ella would be hurt, but it would be better all round in the long run. Yes, he would have to back out soon.

Soon.

Not right now though.

Not when Ella obviously had something else on her mind, that wouldn't be fair. Remus wondered what could be hiding in Ella's closet. He assumed it be no more than a few dusty boxes and some old, unflattering hats compared to his prowling, demonic skeleton, but however trivial the problem it had obviously bothered Ella considerably, her agitation uncharacteristic in its intensity. He tried to recall all that he knew about the twin's homelife.

Her owls always came from the Lake District, where, from what he had gathered, she lived in an isolated cottage with her sister and mother. If this was a lonely existence Ella never mentioned it, although he imagined the seclusion would be more likely to affect her restless twin. He remembered Mrs DeMoitie, he had seen her many times on Platform 9¾. Small, slim and smiley, she reminded Remus of a bird; nimble and quick, and relentlessly chatty. She had nothing but love and affection for her daughters and from what he knew from Ella the sentiment was returned gladly. He had found out she was a squib in third year; Ella had had to explain Laina's intolerance of magical prejudice, after some idly insulting comments from a Ravenclaw fourth year had resulted in his admission to the Hospital Wing for a night while his nose re-set. Sweet and lenient, Helen De Moitie was intensely proud of her daughters, and they were extremely protective in return.

"She's not my mother." Ella's voice was so quiet that Remus couldn't believe he'd heard properly.

"What?"

"Helen – she's not my mum. Not my natural mother, anyway."

Remus searched for the right thing to say, but his mind was a clouded blank. Ella, however, didn't seem to notice and with glazed eyes looking firmly away from him she went on anyway.

"We were adopted when we were three. My father did a runner on my mother before we were even born, and as we didn't have any living relatives there was no-one to look after us when my mother died."

The only thing that startled Remus more than this revelation was the flat, indifferent tone in which Ella related her mother's death. Her constantly moving hands belied her discomfort but no deeper emotion was revealed as she made her confession.

"I'm sorry." He knew this was inadequate, but what else was there to say?

"Don't be." This was a command. "I don't want any mum besides Helen. Especially not one who doesn't think her daughter is worth living for."

It was only a small ripple, but this unprecedented anger was so alien and unnerving that it took Remus a few moments to understand the words beneath.

"She commit-" Remus couldn't quite snatch the exclamation back as the words escaped automatically.

"Yes. She killed herself." Ella used the same dead, distant tone.

"Oh, Ella." Remus gathered her protectively to his chest and kissed her head. At this moment the increasingly erratic patterns she had been frantically constructing with her hands fell apart, causing her to choke in frustration.

He took one of the offending hands and brought it to his lips, kissing each knuckle gently until they relaxed once more.

"You don't have to say anything else if you don't want to."

At last, Ella released the breath she had been holding.

"No. If it's OK, now I've started I might as well carry on. The only other person I can talk to about this is Laina. I can't even do that, if I even mention it she starts crying."

Remus gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm here to listen, whatever you want to say."

Ella was silent for another minute or so. Remus didn't say a word to interrupt her thoughts, he was experienced enough to know that Ella didn't need conversation, but simply willing company while she spoke to herself.

She finally snorted softly.

"There's not much to say really. I don't remember much of it - I was so small. Most of the story I got told later, when I was old enough to understand. Old enough to _comprehend_, anyway.

"What I do remember is feeling strange, sort of nervous, just a lingering sense that something wasn't right. I remember I was in my mother's room, and she put me in the wardrobe. I went in willingly, though. I'm pretty sure she told me we were playing Hide-and-Seek, because mum – Helen – said I wouldn't ever play it again."

Remus gripped the cold hand harder.

"I can only assume she did a similar thing with Laina, but I think she caused a fuss as usual, because I remember hearing my mother shouting at someone so I hid further in the wardrobe, snuggled in her jackets. It smelled of lavender.

"I don't remember much else – I just now that some minutes later I got out of the wardrobe."

Remus felt her heart begin to beat more rapidly and as she spoke her breathing became more uneven.

"And then I saw her lying on the floor. I was annoyed that she hadn't come and found me. I was annoyed that she was ignoring me now. I think I thought it was just another game, until," she caught her breath, "until I saw the blood. I remember _that _very clearly. It took me some time to notice it, but now I can't forget it. Just the blood. Eyes closed, mouth smiling, lying with her wrists in a red puddle."

Remus felt his fingers tingle, her slender fingers were gripping his hand so tightly.

"Afterwards I found out she had taken aconite, too. Just in case slitting her wrists didn't work. She definitely wanted to get the job done." Again the bitterness and anger spiked her statement, and forced its way out in her tight grip. "I'm not supposed to know, but I overheard Dumbledore when he was talking to mum - Helen, my real mum - on one of his visits."

"Visits?" Remus had to force his jaw to work.

"Dumbledore visits every so often to see how my mum's doing. He used to do it more when we were younger, once a month at least. He was the one who found us in the fire."

Ella had kept her face firmly away from Remus the whole time, so he addressed his question to the back of her head.

"Fire?"

"They're not sure how it started – candles I think they decided," Ella shrugged, "but its only thanks to Dumbledore that me and Laina survived. My mother chose the best time to leave us alone and helpless."

There it was again, that horrible, sharp bitterness, stabbing from beneath the cold, calm surface of the words.

"I didn't know what was happening. All I remember is somebody whisking me away from there and never going back.

"And that's that."

She finished almost silently, finally turning to look at Remus. To his amazement her face was dry, her eyes brimming with frustration, not tears.

"I know. I can't cry about it. Isn't that terrible?"

Remus shook his head and stroked her cheek gently, almost tracing the paths of the absent tears.

"Laina can. She can't even think about it without breaking down, but me, I – I – don't even know if I'm sad. I know I should be, I know this should make me really upset, but I just – I can't _feel _it."

She sighed, "Laina just – it's like she's got all the knowledge, all the emotion about it, and I'm left … empty."

The words died. The intrusive noise of cheerful birds in the trees outside was out of place and distant; the mood distorted it, as though the sound had travelled through water.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I went on like that."

Remus didn't get a chance to protest before Ella looked up at him, fixing him with grateful eyes.

"But I'm glad I've said it. Don't get me wrong, I love my life, and I love my mum, more than anything, but I'm glad I've got it out." She entwined his hand in hers and pulled it towards her. "It feels good to get things off your chest, you know?"

Remus twitched as Ella unconsciously ran a finger across one scar, then another. He smiled in response, but did not meet her gaze. It was a few moments before he felt her eyes leave his face.

"But anyway," she sighed, sounding a little disappointed, "there's your reason."

* * *

I know, I know, ooooh, tragedy! How Mary-Sue. But don't worry about the twins, they're very happy with Helen, and want for nothing, and have never valiantlysufferedthrough hardship not letting a single crystal tear fall from their breathtaking azure eyes with their perfect long luscious lashes - there's just a little past there, that's all...

Sham


	20. The art of forgiveness

I abandoned this fic for a long time because I was worried that the content was far too Mary-Sue, and while I enjoyed writing it immensely, I did not want to disappoint anyone reading it. The idea of the story had formed several years ago when I barely knew of fanfiction cliche, or indeed, the ever-present Mary-Sue centric gush that is so often encountered, and while I had been trying my best to write a decent, engaging story and avoid cliche wherever possible I couldn't avoid the plot points that I knew the story was heading towards (and indeed I had been so carefully preparing for). So I decided to give up, but because I always secretly hoped I'd change my mind since I got so much pleasure from writing this story I left the story online, and although I deleted future chapter drafts I always kept the story outline in my mind. Then along came HBP, and I experienced mixed delight and concern when I realised what I was reading felt like a (albeit well-written) fan fiction. All the ideas I had read or written that seemed a little far-fetched or extreme were all proving to have a place in canon, so I figured that maybe some of my ideas were not so crazy or unbelievable after all. So I came back and remembered just how much pleasure I got from this and set myself the challenge of keeping with the story but trying my best to do what JK seems to find so easy. To take an implausible, fanciful story and try to write it well. Because I got rid of some of my previous work in a fit of despair each new chapter will take me sme time to fully write. But I'm back, with avengeance, and would love to hear from any people who have not given up on me.

* * *

Harry chewed his food mechanically, the steady pace of his jaw working was comforting as his mind span on dizzying tangents. So many broken pasts; it seemed that no-one could escape death and loss and suffering. First Snape, now Ella… and himself. To see your own mother dead, how could anyone imagine what it was like to witness… to have to relive her screams as she died to protect you from Voldemort? In a perverse way Harry was glad that he had a direction for his anger; his hatred for Voldemort did not numb or diminish the pain, but it blunted the edges a little by giving it focus. But for Ella – and Snape. Harry could not bring himself to feel pity for his Potions teacher, but he did recognise an alien sense of empathy after getting a brief glimpse into his past. There were other evils apart from the Dark Lord, and to find them within family, which should be safe, and solid and –

He didn't realise how hard he was gripping his glass until he slammed it on the table causing a chilly wave to swill over his hand.

"Evaparo." Said Lupin, without a beat. "What is it Harry?"

"It's not fair." Harry snapped.

"No. I'm afraid it's not." Lupin said simply and gave a weary sigh. "And I know that it is somewhat of a cliché, but that is the way of life."

"But it shouldn't be."

"Yet it is."

"But it shouldn't." Harry knew he was being petulant but he did not care. What did it matter if he was snappy when the world was allowed to be so wrong and fractured?

"I'm afraid, Harry, that that is the way it is. Life is unfair, and we are expected to accept that, which ismuch more so. However, that does not mean that life is not worth enjoying, and struggling for."

Harry moved his head halfway between a nod and a shake, reluctant to accept Lupin's sense. He chewed in silence for several minutes until his curiosity once more outweighed his subdued anger.

"So is that it? What else did she tell you?"

"Well nothing right then; the room became a busy thoroughfare for everyone shuffling down to breakfast." Lupin leaned back and basked in happy recollection. "Early morning was our time, it was fortunate that neither of us believed in wasting more daylight than was necessary, so we often had the common room to ourselves for half an hour or so before anyone else would dare tackle the day. On Saturdays such as that morning we might even manage an hour before anybody normal surfaced."

"Getting up early on a Saturday? You must've been crazy!"

Lupin smiled fondly.

"Those were exactly your father's sentiments, who was never seen before eight-thirty, although when he was he was immediately awake and sprightly, unlike Peter, who was not fully functional until lunchtime. It was not always pleasurable waiting for a bleary eyed, grouchy Peter to surface before heading down for breakfast, but that morning it was Sirius I was more worried about seeing."

* * *

"Good morning my obscenely early rising love birds – caught any worms yet?" The innuendo hidden in James' question may have gone unnoticed by Ella (who was not yet used, as Remus was, to second guessing his every word) were it not for the enormous smirk plastered on his face as he vaulted the arm of the settee and landed untidily next to Remus. Peter rolled his eyes hopelessly as he slouched into a chair.

"May I say how particularly ravishing you're looking today Ella?" he continued, grinning winningly and holding out a bunch of small yellow flowers, which Remus recognised as the sneezing daffodils they had perfected earlier that week. If anyone sniffed the heads the daffodils would suffer an allergic reaction and sneeze back, sending clouds of acrid, sticky pollen all over the recipient.

Ella regarded the offering with suspicion before turning to Remus questioningly. The shake of his head was almost imperceptible but it was enough to make Ella turn back to James and decline politely.

"No thank you James, yellow really isn't my colour."

"Really? That's a problem easily solved." James waved his wand and the flowers immediately shook themselves and half the fluted heads turned a vile pink, clashing horribly with the bright yellow petals. James frowned at the result before offering, in his best salesman patter, "Rhubarb and custard for the madam?"

"I'm afraid the answer's still no, James."

"Traitor." James glared at Remus before returning to the flowers, grimacing, and returning them to their original shade of yellow.

"Well Miss DeMoitié, not only have you utterly devastated my feelings, but you've also just passed up on the gift of completely innocent – and, may I say, absolutely beautiful – flowers. This," he shook the daffodils in her face, "is a dud bunch, whereas this," he produced an identical posy and threw it at Remus, "is a perfected, highly amusing bouquet."

Remus held the flowers at arms length.

"Demonstrate Moony." Commanded James.

"Sod off Prongs." Remus tossed the flowers back to James, who held a hand to his breast, to all appearances mortally offended.

"You fellows call yourselves my friends?"

"I don't." James made a show of ignoring Peter's comment and the subsequent laughter, continuing louder.

"I shall just have to find company worthy of my superior wit and talent." His face lit up as he noticed said company appear at the bottom of the girl's stairs.

"Ah, Evans!" James cried, his voice taking on that grander, deeper tone that he assumed in front of Lily, complete with the slightly desperate strain that always laced his speech in her presence.

"What, Potter?" Lily's expression was one of weary frustration, but her frown softened as she walked towards Remus and Ella, allies in the enemy camp.

"I was hoping I could be considered worthy of your pleasurable and esteemed company." Remus exchanged a brief glance with Peter, who simply rolled his eyes and gave a hopeless shrug.

Lily, however, did not respond with her usual scathing insults, but frowned and asked, "What's in it for me?"

Peter started in surprise, and James responded so quickly it was barely more than a gargle.

"Flowers?" He whipped one of the bunches from his lap and clenched them in his fist, excited grip tormenting the stems.

"What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing, nothing!" James insisted, and Remus was inclined to believe him. He credited James with enough intelligence to know that pranking Lily when she was being so unusually accommodating would almost totally destroy any minute chance he might hold with her. He also credited him with enough self-preservation to remember what had happened when he had successfully hidden all her underwear and then charmed each item a garish hot pink ("imagine, Moony mate, we'll see it through her shirt!"). The hair had taken weeks to grow back, during which painful time it was, James whined as he fiddled beneath his trousers in despair, "as itchy as hell."

"Nothing, Lily." Assured Ella, acknowledging Lily's expression of utter distrust. "They're just funny little flowers."

Remus watched in amazed disbelief as Lily sat hesitantly in the chair next to the settee and slowly prised the flowers from James' paralysed grip. Peter's face seemed to be torn in two different directions; his eyebrows hovering somewhere around the ceiling, and his jaw unhinged and stretching to the floor.

"So." Started Lily, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. "Have any of you heard the new song by The Wands?"

James nodded excitedly, and after a few false stuttering starts managed to embark upon a gushing homily about how The Wands were his absolute favourite band (Remus had to concede that this was a fact, rather than simply an attempt to impress Lily. At least not _solely _an attempt to impress Lily) and that he hadn't much liked _'Sweet Goblin o' Mine' _but definitely thought that the _'Smells Like My Potion Has Gone Wrong'_ was going to be a classic, and had she heard '_Sorcerer's Rhapsody'?_

Peter was still catching flies in his mouth as James continued to gesticulate wildly, finally proving to Lily he could talk about something other than himself. But more shocking than this, and more unexpected than Lily's appearance, who was at this moment staring at James with a mixture of unease and bewilderment, was the tense grip that materialised on Remus' shoulder.

"She wants a word." Ella muttered under her breath, and Remus whirled round, astonished, to see Laina hovering agitatedly behind him.

Without turning her gaze from the increasingly emphatic conversation Ella nudged Remus off the settee and he felt himself being dragged swiftly across the common room by Laina. Nobody seemed to notice Remus' abduction and before he could think about signalling for help Laina pushed him onto a large windowsill and drew the thick curtains behind them, making the dust spring and dance in the pale January sunlight.

"What the hell?" he asked, catching his breath.

Laina was grimacing, a red flush staining her face and she was glaring at the curtains. Her expression unsettled Remus for a minute before he noticed her hand picking absently at the embroidered velvet and realised that she was nervous "Look." She frowned at him defiantly. "I know this is weird, but I need some advice and you're the only person who can give it to me. I mean, you know Sirius, and I'd rather talk to you than James or Peter because, well, because, and the three people I like most in this entire place all adore you so you can't be too bad, can you?"

Laina was chattering at her usual breakneck pace with barely any heed to verbal punctuation but paused when she saw Remus' brow furrow in thought.

"Ella, Lily and Sirius." She explained. "All of them seem to think the sun shines out of your arse – I wouldn't care to consider but I'll take their word for it because I don't know you well enough – actually, I've just realised I barely know anything about you, in fact I could name everyone in our entire school and tell you just what favours they owe me but I've just had the shocking realisation that I couldn't tell you more than three people's favourite colours, or even the colour of their eyes -" Remus backed up against the alcove wall as she leaned forward to squint into his face, continuing without a pause, "-amber. So what about you? Who the hell are you?"

Laina finally took a breath and cocked her head questioningly. Remus was exhausted. Following Laina's conversation was a roller coaster strain, her mouth just automatically followed her train of thought along its rapid and twisted path, sentences leaping out into the world unchecked as they crossed her mind. For Remus, who checked and triple checked any oral contribution before it left the strict confines of his head, this was baffling. Not to mention that she had just posed the most difficult and profound question he had ever been asked, dropping it like an unimportant trinket in the jumble of her speech.

Remus' brain finally arrived, spinning, at the current point of conversation but was still reeling and unable to provide his expectant tongue with an answer. His reply, therefore, was not the succinct yet profound answer he knew must be hidden somewhere deep inside him, but the rather less articulate "Kerwha?"

Laina raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. "You know, Lupin." She broke into a bright beaming smile and her eyes sparkled in an oppressively jolly manner. "Hi, I'm Laina, I'm 16, and I enjoy Quidditch, chocolate and compliments. I never wear matching socks. There's a stick man in the creases of my belly button. My pet peeves are ignorant people, wind chimes, and that damn mermaid on the bathroom wall." She waited, and frowned. "Oh, and people who take hours to answer a very simple question."

"OK, OK" he laughed in breathless amazement. "Erm, I'm Remus Lupin. I like, well, I'm quite fond of -" he paused; he really wanted to say reading but that sounded so conservative and prudish. He couldn't say that he loved Defence or Arithmancy, because who named lessons among their hobbies? What did he do that was acceptable? He wished Laina wouldn't glower at him, it really was quite intimidating.

"Stop thinking so hard about it!" she ordered. She grinned and opened her arms. "This is a circle of trust. Just tell me something about yourself."

"I like reading." The response was apologetic. He really couldn't think of anything else.

Laina sighed. "Where've I heard that before? No wonder Ella likes you so much. Well, we've taken a step in the right direction, what else do you do?"

"I play the piano," Remus offered. Laina nodded encouragingly. "and the guitar a bit."

Laina's hands circled to keep him rolling. "Stop thinking. Just say it!"

Remus took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I'm good at chess. I wish I could play a proper game with someone because your sister's hopelessly rubbish and no-one else will play with me. I bite my nails. Erm, I like the smell of toffee," Remus expected Laina to interrupt with a 'who doesn't?' but when he opened his eyes he realised that once he had started talking she was actually listening. She was staring intently at his face, watching every motion of his mouth, the corner of her own teased up in a satisfied grin. Within the stifling confines of the windowsill her interest was intense, all her energy fixed on him, drawing him out and Remus did not have the energy to ignore the attention, he could not break the concentration on himself. The attention was a spotlight, hot and uncomfortable, but demanded words and confessions to appease its hunger. He wondered how satisfying talking properly to Laina would be for a conceited person, their self appearing so fascinating to another, and reflected back to themselves, absorbed by their ego. No wonder Sirius found her such addictive company. Remus didn't have time to chastise himself for the insult to his friend before his mouth tumbled on.

"I eat my sugar quills strand by strand. The feeling of bunched up sheets at the end of the bed makes me feel sick. Erm, I hate Potions, and it was my fault all the cauldrons exploded at the end of last year, because I can't tell the difference between bundimun secretion and armadillo bile

A peal of laughter halted his ramble just in time to make him realise that he'd let slip a guilty secret he'd been carrying around for over 6 months. He bit his lips shut, but Laina just laughed and held out a hand for him to shake. He took it slowly, mortified that he'd just inadvertently revealed a secret and slightly insulted at the laughter that had followed it.

"Well done!" she exclaimed, and noticing his discomfort attempted to give him some support. "Oh come on Lupin, you're talking to the girl who managed to somehow make a potion magnetic and fuse five cauldrons around Gemma Hardbottle."

Remus was shocked. "I thought you'd done that on purpose!"

Laina snorted, incredulous. "Me? I can barely make a shrinking solution, never mind manage something that complex. I took the credit - of course - but a month of detention is better than admitting that you failed at something isn't it? Not to mention some notable school-wide fame, which is never to be sniffed at – but anyway, Mr Lupin, I interrupted you, what other things do you hate? Such as," she continued without giving Remus so much as a chance to open his mouth, "the way I hate fruit because of the squidge-crunch."

She waited for his confused reply, and was not disappointed.

"Squidge-crunch?"

"You know? The way fruit, like, say, grapes, or satsumas, or oranges - but they're basically the same aren't they? – but fruit like oranges, oh, and all berries and stuff like that, well they all have squidge crunch, like when you first take a bite there's resistance, and that's an uncomfortable challenge of power, then you break through and it's all squidgy and horrible and juice goes everywhere and your teeth fly through the fleshy bit too fast because of the pressure you had to give to break the skin and so they clash together too quickly and you crunch your own teeth better than the fruit itself."

Remus made a mental note to observe carefully if ever he saw Laina eat fruit in this utterly bizarre manner.

"Oh, and it all tastes awful." She added as an afterthought. "So, are you going to tell me what you hate?"

Remus noticed Laina seemed blissfully unaware that it was her own comments that prevented him from replying earlier, and pondered his answer with caution. Should he say it? Her reactions were erratic and impossible to gauge, he decided to risk it anyway.

"Well, what I hate, what I really can't stand, is people who ask questions in order to give their own answers."

There it was again, that brief moment of indecision, between anger and appreciation, the whisper on the knife-edge where it could either way.

Remus relaxed from tension that he didn't know had gripped his shoulders as Laina let out another laugh, loud and unrestrained as though she had forgotten they were perched suspiciously on a windowsill and divided from the rest of the world by only a wall of curtain. Which, he reflected, she probably had.

"Fair point, Lupin, but I'll have you know that I detest smart-alecs."

"Well if I spot any about I'll let you know."

"So helpful, Mr Prefect, remind me to give my compliments to Dumbledore."

This last comment gave Remus the opening to ask the question that had been nagging him.

"Your willing helpful servant ma'am," he doffed his imaginary cap, "on which note I wondered what exactly it was you said you wanted advice about."

The smile slid from her face like melted ice, her brows knotted and she glared at her hands as though they had said something terribly insulting about her personal hygiene. Remus had never seen such aggressive embarrassment, with the possible exception of –

"Sirius. It's about Sirius. I just want – I just need to know – do you think we'll, do you think he'll forgive me? With what I said?"

Her desperate gaze was raised to his, and Remus was horrified to see that eyes that had moments before been creased in amusement were hazed with tears.

"Oh, um, yes. I mean no. No, wait, no – I mean yes. I mean, I mean," Remus took a breath and forced himself to fix Laina's stare squarely. "What I mean is, no don't worry, I think that Sirius will forgive you, and knowing Sirius he'll probably do it quickly. Pad – Sirius has always preferred the kiss and makeup part to the actual fighting." Remus smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and convinced himself what he was saying was mostly true.

"OK." Laina said, and then coughed to imply that her voice breaking was nothing to do with emotion.

"Dusty in here, isn't it?" Remus supplied.

Laina nodded gratefully and steadied her shaking hands.

"So, you think it'll be alright then?"

"Yeah, no problem." He raised another smile, which he was happy to see Laina return. "But I just wouldn't say anything like that about, well, _that_ in future."

"I know, I'm not stupid." Snapped Laina, but she instantly bent back into shape. "Well, maybe I was stupid, but not even I'm going to make the same mistake twice. I know my bundimun from my armadillo!

She grinned wickedly as Remus choked.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Remus, however, did not find this very assuring and felt even worse as, after thanking him and edging from behind the curtain she added,

"Not unless I need anything from you, of course."

They slyly rejoined the group, who were the only people left to leave for breakfast, Laina being rather less surreptitious than Remus, not having had the valuable experience of Marauding, where he had learned that silently sneaking is better than a banner to an alert enemy. Fortunately, no-one seemed to have noticed their absence, James was still waving his arms like an octopus on acid, watched intently by Peter, and even Lily seemed to have begun to enjoy their conversation, nodding gently to whatever James was saying until he hit something she disagreed with when she edged forward on the couch and began to sermonise in quick, earnest tones, a passionate flush illuminating her cheeks. Only Ella recognised their return, without turning to face them she gave a quick thumbs up to the pair and didn't even blink as Laina slid down the couch arm and into the space beside her. Laina gave a quick whisper in her twin's ear, who, in turn muttered something to Lily. Lily, who at first looked a little annoyed at the disruption, caught sight of Laina and seemed to remember something. She stood, and the other girls followed, and turned to leave, but not before addressing James with a vaguely puzzled air.

"I'm afraid we're going to head down to breakfast now, but thank you for what turned out to be an interesting discussion."

James could not have looked more ecstatic if she had pounced on him naked and asked him to do unhygienic things atop the Astronomy Tower, but to his eternal credit he hid it well when he returned the compliment, his voice only squeaking a little.

"Yeah, yeah," he cleared his throat, "you too. Although I think we might have to have a second round sometime, when I have conclusive proof that Gorgon is the far superior guitarist."

"Hmmm, maybe."

Lily had turned toward the portrait hole so she did not see James silently punch the air, and the cushions, and a (only quietly) remonstrative Peter before falling back on a blissful wave of elation and sliding over the slick back of the chair.

As the girls passed a stunned Remus, he felt a hand squeeze his own. He swivelled, already pursing his lips, before he realised it was Laina's hand, not Ella's, that was holding his.

'Thank you' she mouthed.

"No problem," he mumbled, looking away to avoid her amused eyebrow and re-aligning his lips into a more suitable, platonic position. It was then that the portrait hole swung open to reveal a stormy and dishevelled Sirius. As he stepped unsteadily into the room Remus saw that he was wearing the same clothes from the day before and his normally sleek hair was trying to escape his head at odd angles, most likely due to the repeated running of agitated hands through it, just as he was doing now. Laina noticed Remus' diverted stare and faced Sirius herself. Her hand instantly turned into a vice and it took a considerable amount of self-control on Remus' part not to cry out in surprise and pain.

Sirius' heavily bagged eyes were darting around the now almost deserted room distractedly but stopped stone dead when they caught sight of Laina. He shifted as if to make toward her, but seemed to think the better of it, and remained still as a statue, one hand gripping his hair, his face fixed, marred by an expression that seemed to Remus a mixture of disgust and remorse. Laina apparently realised it was her move; she took a deep, shaking breath and released his hand – which had lost all feeling – and moved with slow, almost composed steps toward Sirius, who seemed now to be wavering with some inner conflict.

Remus could plainly see the whites of Laina's knuckles on her shivering hands, but when she spoke her voice was steady, albeit apprehensive.

"Sirius. I know what I said yesterday was unthinking, awful and utterly unforgivable but I wondered if you'd think about, well, forgiving me? I made a stupid mistake and I'll never do or say anything like that again, in fact nothing at all ever again if that's what you want…?"

Her voice trailed off as she realised that Sirius wasn't even looking at her, but at a vacant space somewhere above her head, frowning in obvious deliberation and frustration.

"Sirius, please look at me."

He did, but with obvious effort. When he had dragged his gaze down to meet Laina's pleading stare his expression twisted and slid into something resembling despair. Still he remained silent.

"Sirius, say something, just tell me – "

"Stop." Sirius' voice was cracked and hoarse. "Just don't say anything. Please just stop."

Laina bowed her head. The two remained static and silent but the tension rippled off them in buzzing waves. All the others in the room were looking-but-not-looking, Lily staring with baited breath from behind the concealing curtain of her hair and Ella was obsessed with the sight of her fiddling hands, the only movement in the suddenly choking room. Remus could not see what James and Peter were doing and he dare not turn to look, eager as he was to leave the room and end this intrusion he dared not even move to draw attention to himself or the scene he was watching. Seconds dripped away like years until Laina spoke, only in a whisper, but in the dead silence it crashed like the lid on a tomb.

"Please?" She reached out and touched Sirius' arm, who squeezed his eyes shut and drew in breath in a hiss, as though her fingers burned. "Please?"

Sirius let out an enormous shuddering sigh and hauled her toward him, so quickly and urgently that she yelped in surprise.

"We're all so fucking stupid!" He cried, and Laina choked on her tears as she laughed.

"We all make mistakes," he muttered into her hair as his arms imprisoned her, "we all make them and it doesn't mean anything. So don't worry about it, we can forget it. We all make mistakes, alright? Don't worry."

"So I'm forgiven?" The beaming hope of her smile suggested that Laina knew, as they all did, what his response would be, but wanted the opportunity to savour and relish the words.

"You're forgiven."

Laina sighed happily and snuggled her head back into Sirius' chest, almost purring with delight. It was as though they had all been held up like puppets and those two words had snipped the strings, leaving the rest of them free to breathe and sigh and sag back into their seats. Lily and Ella sank into the two chairs closest to them and exchanged the kind of special weighted look only girls could achieve. Remus hesitated for a moment, unsure of where to sit and unsettled that such a simple decision could become such a dilemma. Should he take the empty seat between Ella and Lily, or go back to the free couch next to Peter and James, who was pulling constipated faces, apparently intended to look like somebody in love, under a shower of fireworks emitting from his wand.

As he sunk onto the soft cushions of the settee Remus watched as Sirius scooped Laina up with perfect ease and slid into an armchair, settling her in his lap. The motion was perfect and fluid, and Laina, who seemed not to have moved or been disturbed in the slightest, curled snugly into his chest, fitting perfectly. Remus could not help a small sigh. Seeing Laina so perfectly happy in Sirius' embrace, looking red and blotchy but for all the world like Ella sparked uncontrollable pangs of envy deep in his stomach. He fully intended, he told himself again, to end his relationship with Ella, for both their sakes, when the time was right, but it was moments like this that made him long for such closeness that he forbade himself. He continued to try to work up the resolve, but something always got in the way to prevent him. Gryffindor would win a Quidditch match, and he would not ruin the celebrations, or she would run up to him to return a quill he'd left behind, and he couldn't taint kindness with a rebuke, or they'd just be sitting silently in the Tuesday afternoon free period they had alone together, and he would just work up the courage to tell her but then she would shift and the sunlight would illuminate another portion of her face and he would be distracted by counting her freckles. He would have to tell her, have to do it. He was just waiting for the perfect moment. He would have to do it. It was that or tell her his secret and, well, then it would all be the same in the end anyway, wouldn't it? So he had to do it. And that would mean no more forbidden daydreaming, no more comfy-chair cuddle fantasies, no more saving the last bit of Honeyduke's chocolate to give to her (and he would have to stop thinking of her whenever he smelt Strawberry Delight, which he would be sure to forget was her favourite) and he'd certainly have to throw away his secret stash of the scribbled cartoons she passed him during Herbology.

Without thinking, he allowed his eyes to turn towards Ella, who was staring at Sirius and Laina with an idly wistful expression. She realised she was being watched and smiled at him. The familiar giddy fizzing bypassed his brain and resolve and curved along his mouth, returning the smile was an uncontrollable instinct. What was wrong with him? He was stronger than this. His reactions and responses were highly trained, leashed to his will and immovable by any outside forces - with the possible exception of Sirius and James who had had many years in which to perfect their art - how could they fail him now?

Remus was saved from further brooding by James, who announced loudly, "Gee Pete, I'm starving. I bet if we rushed now we could still make breakfast!"

There was a chorus of agreement and a vague patting of stomachs as the uncomfortable audience rose to leave. The entwined couple didn't even notice. Laina was far away as she dreamily stroked Sirius' jumper, who himself was staring into space, lost in some troubling thought, his cloudy expression out of place and ominous. Remus had a feeling he had was not quite ready to forgive Laina so easily, despite his assurances. Frowning, Remus shuffled over to the portrait hole where he saw Ella lingering in the corridor.

"We're going to go ahead," she inclined her head towards an impatient Lily, "but I wanted to say you did a great job with Laina. Thanks. I love you."

She heard Lily's growl as James clambered out into the hallway and quickly kissed his cheek before scuttling away.

"Oh. OK." Was all Remus could think to say.

* * *

So please R&R,reviews still make my world go round. In fact, many thanks to those people who faithfully reviewed, especially those who returned even after months of no updating to ask where I was. It was you guys as much as HBP that spurred me on to writing more.Hope there's still an audience out there, andwatch this space - there will be more. Oh, and a small tip (and shameless pimp) keep your eye on mylivejournal account ( update there first, and give ETAs on new chaptersand stories!

Thanks, Sham x


	21. Wet Witches With Wands

I'm rubbish, I'm rubbish, I know, but I let real life take over too much. The next two chapters are almost totally written, they just need tweaking - which is where I usually end up re-writing the whole thing. This thing has morphed a little, there's a lot less action/adventure in proportion to romance, which has seemed to creep into everything. I'm not going to change the tag because the whole thing is supposed to be a/a, and hopefully there will be a pay-off somewhere down the road. Also, I've had to up the rating, because I don't feel I can write teenage boys properly without a higher rating. I tried, but they just seemed so false. So sorry if anyone's offended by the mature, sexual content referred to indirectly in this chapter and chapters following. This is for my sister and anyone else still patient enough to keep up with this story...

* * *

"She said what?" Harry tried not to sound too taken aback, either at the story, or at the blasé manner with which Lupin recounted such details. While Lupin was a natural storyteller, he had a jarring way of pulling back his enthusiasm at odd points.

"I'm sorry Harry. I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"What did you – how did you feel when she said that?"

"I'm afraid my memory is a little rusty at present, I can't quite recollect what you're referring to. However, I do remember that when we returned to the Common Room Sirius and Laina had not moved an inch, and despite the milling crowds returning from breakfast they seemed lost in deep, private discussion, which was unusual for your godfather, who could rarely be persuaded to take anything seriously."

The couple were surrounded by a ring of empty chairs, as though in their own clandestine bubble, as other studentssubconsciously diverted their paths to avoid trespassing in their personal space.Neither Sirius nor Laina seemed to have noticed any presence; Sirius was talking quietly and steadily, addressing alamp on the table and Laina seemed transfixed by whatever he had to say.

Remus hovered uncertainly by James, wondering what to do. As Ella and Lily followed Peter through the portrait hole Laina finally looked around and gave a small smile of recognition. Sirius finished his monologue and instantly flashed a magnetic grin of welcome. There was a moment of uncomfortable loitering on behalf of the watchers, knowing that they had trespassed on an intensely private moment. However, the same sense of discomfort never seemed to penetrate the couple; if ever a situation was destined to embarrass Sirius it certainly wasn't going to be being caught in a gentle cuddle, andLaina seemed perfectly unabashed by the stares directed at her red, swollen cheeks and black rimmed eyes that made her look like a panda clinging to Sirius like he was a choice piece of bamboo.

"Well." James was always the first to speak; he seemed to have a personal vendetta against all forms of unease and would do anything in his power to break silences, violently if necessary. Remus vividly remembered the rainy Friday afternoon in January when he returned from the hospital wing, weary and aching, to find all three boys assembled solemnly in their dormitory, readying themselves to declare to two words that Remus had been dreading for seventeen months.

"_We know." James blurted in the mute tension._

"_Know what?" Remus had rehearsed this scenario in his head many times before, but in none of his practices did his voice crack to such a pitch that he startled the bats nesting in the tower roof, nor did the pain in his stomach twist into such unbearable contortions. He quickly estimated the quickest path to the door, the quietest route out of the castle and then just how long it would take him to sprint all the way home to his musty, empty room in Lancashire where there were plenty of dark places to hide and no need to ever talk to anyone ever again._

"_We know where you go." _

_So ingrained was that evening in his memory that Remus could easily recall every moment, every word, every detail; from Sirius' repeated use of the word 'nob-jockey', having only just discovered it that week, to the colour of James' T-shirt (green, with the black Whiskered Chimney design. He couldn't wear it again; his nervous fingering round and round the collar stretched it beyond second year magical repair). He remembered the smug twist of Sirius' mouth as he blocked Remus' only exit - the only time he had been truly scared by one of his friends - he remembered that Peter stayed at least an arm's length away from him at all times, his normally chameleonic face betraying his fear, but also the only one to display any hint of pity. He remembered the feeling of his heart going supernova as Sirius announced that it didn't matter, any of it, not one bit, because they were friends, followed by the comment, "besides, being friends with a werewolf is gonna be so cool!" which made James wince, and Peter's thrilled smile when James asserted that they were, indeed, in it together, whatever it was, 'all four, no matter what'. And Remus remembered that James conducted it all, he directed the challenge and led the promises and reassurance and even calmed Sirius' excited and overwhelming babbling, but then when it was all over save the silence and Remus desperately trying to hold back sobs James retreated, as if threatened by the sudden resolution. He didn't know what to do, with nothing left to be done, so he did the only thing he could think of to shatter the nervous hush. With a swiftly muttered "sorry chaps" he whipped off his trousers, got his head caught in his t-shirt and rocketed down the stairs, yelling unintelligibly, spilling into the common room in such a manic whirlwind that the disgusted sixth years assigned him the imaginative moniker, "Potty", which even James admitted was better than "Tiny". _

James began to shuffle uncomfortably and Remus hastily diverted his eyes in case they were treated to a repeat performance. He had to shift them again though when his gaze instinctively landed on Ella, who was looking oddly ashamed, and unfortunately rather attractive with it. Remus suddenly became intensely interested in Lily's nose, and it was in this way he was treated to a valuable insight into women's communication. Remus had not been aware that Laina had even glanced away from Sirius but as soon as Lily made an almost imperceptible motion toward her own face, ever so slightly grazing her finger down her cheek, Laina rubbed her eye and inspected her blackened finger with a look of amused disgust. She proceeded to wriggle upright in a bone-defying fashion, keeping her sticky streaky face attached to Sirius' as she turned and slithered over the edge of the armchair.

"Just going to powder my nose." Remus was marginally impressed that someone could whisper into and bite someone's ear at the same time, but more so that it was possible to look so radiant and unselfconscious while sporting such an interesting damp raccoon look. Ella carefully didn't look at him as she left with Lily and her sister. He knew, because he was equally carefully not looking at her.

James sprawled onto the free sofa, graciously allowing Peter to sit at one end as his footrest and Remus sank into the spare chair next to Sirius.

"Life is good." He announced as his gaze followed Lily, or rather Lily's arse, as she left the Common Room.

"Didn't know you cared Prongs."

James looked momentarily confused before grinning and leaning over to cuff Sirius around the shoulder. "Well, you know, happy for you mate."

Sirius merely smirked. "Such a selfless soul."

"Well, what would we do for entertainment if you two split up? It's almost as good as porn."

Everyone stared at James in disbelief. Peter looked positively scandalized.

"OK, OK," he held up his hands, "it's nowhere near as good as porn. But it's better thancomics. And free."

"I paid Creswelleight sickles for that _Wet Witches With Wands_." Mourned Peter

"You were ripped off there mate."

"They weren't even that wet."

"Barely soggy." Sirius agreed.

"Eight sickles for damp wank ragsPoor Wormtail." James attempted to pat Peter on the head with his foot, but managed instead to poke him in the eye, eliciting a sharp squeak which he ignored. "You'd've done better to ask Sirius to record him and Laina at it. Much cheaper."

"Shut your mouth Prongs or I'll be tempted to shut it for you." Sirius idly flicked some dust of the arm of his chair into James' untidy nest of hair, where it would remain inextricably stuck.

James sat upright to challenge Sirius. "Is that fear I detect Padfoot? Scared you'll be emasculated?"

Sirius raised his eyebrow"I'm scared for poor iccle Petey. He's not old enough to handle seeing a true man."

"Hey! I'm only five months younger than you."

They shared a Look before shaking their heads. James sighed at put an arm around the shorter boy as he continued to Sirius.

"I think he deserves the education you can offer him. I mean, you can talk big all you want Padfoot, but when are we gonna get some proof? 'Cause as far as I can remember from our jaunt in the lake in second year then the truth doesn't match up to the boasting."

"The lake was bloody freezing oh-jealous-one, and I think you'd do well to remember I was not the only one to put on a poor show that day, eh 'Prunes'?"

"Don't change the subject," said James hastily. "Does Wormtail get his hardcore action or not?"

"I'm not touching his pasty arse even if you pay me a million galleons." Peter's eyes widened in horror but James carried on undeterred.

"Come on mate, just drop one of your better memories in a pensieve and it'll go no further than our room - our year at least."

"If she suspected I'd even _thought _about that I'd be dead quicker than you could say 'eight sickles is a rip-off'."

"I dunno." James stroked his chin and pushed his glasses up his nose. "If you milk the guilt right we could be in for a tidy profit." Only Remus noticed the twitch in Sirius' cool expression as James rattled on. "Maybe even get a few other girls in there, better for us, not to mention bloody awesome for you, perhaps even McGon-"

"Prongs." Sirius' voice was dangerously steady. "Shut the hell up."

"Just a joke, just a joke." James raised his hand in a placating motion. "OK, I apologise, I went a little too far. It's just the thought of my darling Minerva drives me crazy with desire. Who says I apologise by rescuing some of that Dirty Warlock Ale we stashed the other week?

Remus felt it was his job to be enthusiastic as Sirius was still frowning and Peter's face had glazed into a frieze of horror. James smiled gratefully and raised his eyebrows over Sirius' head as he darted up the stairs. Sirius snapped out of it first and shook his head wearily at Remus, although there was still a hard edge to his grin.

"Evans. McGonagall. Seriously, Moony, we need to put the poor guy out of his misery."

The sound of a familiar breakneck dash down the stairs cause Remus to remark, "Don't worry. One of these days he'll break his own neck and save us the trouble."

Sirius laughed and as James leaned over the back of his chair patted him affectionately on the cheek, knocking his glasses down his nose.

"Pads. You haven't moved my cloak have you?"

"No. What the hell would I want your filthy threads for? Perhaps your disgusting socks have finally disintegrated the rest of your clothes with their stink"

"No, stupid." James lowered his voice. "The _other_ cloak."

Sirius froze and absently clicked his fingers.

"Padfoot?"

"I'll be right back." Sirius swept out of his chair and disappeared to their room.

"On your feet, lose your seat." Announced James to no-one in particular and settled into the armchair. "Wormtail, move towards this end of the sofa, will you?"

Peter did as he was commanded and only gave a faint protest as James swung his legs over the armrest and laid his feet once more in his lap.

"You are one good foot warmer Wormtail. That is your gift to the world. And because you're so good to my feet," he continued loftily, "one day you and I will have a little sit down and discuss the birds and the bees and I will return the favour by imparting all my knowledge."

Peter shoved James' feet away from him and objected, "I know about that stuff."

"Of course, of course you do my poor boy." James patted his knee with a dirty sock. "But knowledge is one thing," here James closed his eyes and raised his hand in the air into a clasped fist, "_true_ understanding comes from only one place."

"And there's normally all sorts of belts and zips in the way. Lace, too, if you're lucky." Remus muttered.

"I was going to say true understanding comes from actual experience, but thankyou for lowering the tone."

Remus smiled obligingly, but on the inside felt unsettled. He truly doubted Prongs and he had any more experience than Peter, but poor Wormtail was shockingly naive. Not about the process, or the anatomy of the opposite sex, Merlin knew he'd seen enough pictures, but when it came to sexual encounters Wormtail had some odd notion that it was acceptable to tell the truth. They all teased him when he revealed, with a mixture of embarrassment and pride, that he had just had his first kiss under the mistletoe of '75. The laughter stopped, however, when he returned after the following Easter break with a detailed account of his first hand- and subsequent blow-job. Sirius halted the precise and brutally honest report with a quick silencing charm and a look of haughty disdain but Remus recognised the fear that James was failing to disguise; how the hell was Wormtail beating them? James boasted about his sexual prowess, but as a fellow fibber Remus was skilled at reading through the bravado. Prongs' every achievement beyond kissing was 'with this totally hot bird on holiday, you should've seen her mate, she was fit and well into me'. Remus knew the tactic; every girl met whose eye colour you could remember became potential bragging fodder. The tiny grain of truth was easily expanded and embellished; a chaste kiss became passionate snogging, a hasty over-the-clothes fumble transformed into a half naked groping session. Holiday girlfriends, however falsified, were brilliant, as any self-respecting male knew, because no-one could know them and so no-one could know the truth. They were fantastically tailored to James' needs in particular, as the other Marauders could never challenge his word, but there was no female evidence to jeapordise any fragile chance remained in his pursuit of Lily. But poor Wormtail, who was normally so adept at crafting intricate half-truths and elaborate but waterproof lies for teachers and students alike, seemed to have missed out on the basic lessons of romance manufacture.

Remus pretty sure James had only ever had two proper experiences, beyond the occasional kisses he'd shared with three-hour school flings. The first was an old family friend with whom he used to play kiss chase with before school started. She went to Beauxbatons and James had been noticeably excited about the prospect of a reunion. She apparently felt the same because James declared that he had managed, with little difficulty, to coerce out of her underwear. He woefully recounted how he couldn't make it all the way because her big biker boyfriend turned up and socked him in the face – he had returned to Hogwarts sporting a beautiful black eye that even magical healing hadn't managed to disguise James had later admitted to Remus in a moment of drunken honesty that it was actually the French darling's handiwork and he had earned it when he had tried to put his hand down her trousers. The second definite event was at the end of 5th year when they had all sneaked down to Hogsmeade for a celebratory drink in the Gnarled Staff, a pub so old that the outdoor toilets were considered a modern luxury and there were still deep grooves and scorch marks across the walls from the age when public duels were still legal. It was commonly supposed that the Staff had been there forever and the village itself had simply grown up around it. However, this was probably generated by the same rumour mill that claimed that the proprietor, Old Elric, had achieved immortality by drinking the blood of stray dogs through an ornate goblet that he had acquired in his days as a pirate; probably along the same adventure where his right leg was eaten by a crocodile. Such whisperings were frowned upon by adults, who thought such tales were nonsense, that his wooden leg was surely the result of an unfortunate accident - probably involving farming equipment - and that it was cruel to create such fantasies about a lonely old man. Nevertheless, they certainly wouldn't have cherished the thought of their children entertaining any contact with the grizzled old man, although by the age of seventeen most students had furtively nursed a pint at a stained, wobbly table in the notoriously lax establishment. The Marauders were making the most of the familiar gloom and their volatile firewhiskeys before the regrettably premature demise of the pub. Whether Elric was being closed down because of his habit of serving fifteen year olds strong alcohol, or because of the new species of mould that had formed a purple carpet across the bar top, or even because the last slight wind had caused half of the third floor to slide off entirely, the crooked landlord refused to comment. He had simply shrugged as he took Sirius' money and placed it in the small ornate chest behind the bar.

They were only halfway through their first drink when a giggling gaggle of girls staggered drunkenly through the door. Remus vaguely recognised three of them from Hogwarts; he was almost positive the brunette was the head girl who helped him round in his first year, although it was hard to tell with the strange hat that was falling over her eyes and the fake plastic breasts rising up toward her chin. Remus decided it wasn't polite to stare, but was horrified to find himself thrust along the pocked bench by one of the party as the rest of her intoxicated friends invaded the table. Peter looked terrified as a tall black haired woman caught him in a headlock masquerading as a hug and demanded that they be entertained by their 'new, young sicely nober friends'. Remus himself was more than nervous of these clearly crazy women, but made polite conversation nonetheless, which had the unsettling effect of making him their favourite. Sirius and James, who were actually enjoying themselves, used their humour and charm to keep their attention long enough for some bawdy banter to be exchanged, but the braying, swaying women seemed to adopt Remus as their pet, pinching his cheeks and ruffling his hair. He considered pointing out that he was only 6 years younger than they, but decided that it would only make them laugh more. It was shortly after they had been forced to endure the fourth successive toast to 'the future Mrs Bones,' 'the wonderful, beautiful Amelia' 'my best friend, I mean it, my best friend in the world' and 'the lucky Mrs Bines, Beans', respectively that James was dragged out of his seat by the woman with bright eyes and a nun's wimple askew on her head. She hauled him into the cupboard where Elric stored his broom and mop – the fact that he owned either often came as a shock to his customers – and they staggered out some minutes later, both looking extremely pleased with themselves, James holding what Remus assumed to be a to be a brightly-coloured duster. The woman – Rolanda, her friends shouted in gleeful scandal – tottered over to the bar and slurred out a thanks to Old Elric. Elric himself seemed entirely unperturbed as she leaned over the counter to press a sloppy kiss on his stubbled chin; he stood stock still, polishing the same glass he always held, twirling it round and round until it provided a lone sparkle in the dingy room. He simply nodded a farewell to the group as they swayed out into the warm night, voices raised in song, although they couldn't seem to agree on a definite tune. Remus was still trying to calm his trembling heart as he turned to James, who was holding the thing in his hands reverently in before him. The boys gaped at it in shocked silence until the tap-shuffle tap-shuffle of Elric making an uncommon move from behind the bar diverted their attention. His craggy face twisted into a knowing smile as he placed a hand on James' shoulder.

"Well done boy, you'll want to keep that somewhere safe. A chest, aye, t'is only place for treasure."

James had nodded, dumbfounded, and, grinning like a lunatic, clutched the pink, frilly bra to his chest.

James always confided in Remus on these matters (albeit only when inebriated); he couldn't tell Sirius - it was unthinkable to admit anything to Sirius about girls. Sirius, who had lost his virginity at the tender age of 14, Sirius who had girls lining up to do all sorts of things to him, things Remus could barely pronounce, Sirius who knew everything and anything and sneered at the least indication that anyone else didn't. No, the subject was best avoided entirely around such an intimidating presence. Remus was fortunate, he supposed, to have a built in excuse. After the third prolonged instance of not-so-gentle ribbing about his lack of 'progress' with Ella – a deficiency highlighted by the fact Laina and Sirius appeared to be copulating like rabbits, though it was anybody's guess where Sirius found the time – Remus had finally explained in a violent whisper that it would be very difficult to explain why, at naked crunch time, he had the characteristics of a human patchwork quilt. He suffered rumblings of "any excuse" and the occasional suggestion of "why don't you insist you need the lights off and clothes on, because you're ashamed of your fat arse", but aside from that the others were mollified and also left with the – unintentional, Remus told himself – impression that Remus was positively fighting to keep Ella from jumping him at the earliest opportunity. The bitter truth was that she didn't seem remotely interested in that sort of thingand it was handy that outside forces were conspiring to prevent him from pressing his intentions, because otherwise Remus might have had to confront his own lack of enthusiasm. It wasn't that he didn't like the idea of sex in general or even with Ella in particular, in fact he had several favourite fantasies revolving around that very theme, but he sometimes wondered if the actual act made him a little scared. In his own hands, so to speak, everything was safe, but he occasionally speculated whether playing with a partner didn't make everything so much grander, so much more imposing, dragging up doubts and questions and judgement that weren't there when it was just one person with himself, who would still like and respect him no matter what embarrassment. Fortunately, of course, these were all just idle thoughts and theories because, after all, what real person would be scared of sex? So it was lucky that it was the werewolf thing that unfairly prevented him from immediately diving into the sack and becoming an undisputed sex God.

James finished delivering whatever sexual diatribe had consumed him and glanced towards the stairs.

"I swear, if he's lost it I'm going to make a new cloak out of his skin."

This threat precipitated the reappearance of a black head into the common room. James opened his mouth to yell but Sirius halted him with a wave of his hand and sprinted off across the room and out through the portrait hole.

"Bastard." Growled James. "I'll tell you, I'm going to use his bloody poncey hair for the lining."

* * *

Please leave feedback, especially constructive criticism about the tenseuse. Dotting between different timelines and perspectives is a challengeand I don't think itflowsvery well here. I tried over and over with different tenses but I never quite got the immediacy I wanted while still retaining clarity and I hate myself for having to highlight the change with italics. So suggestions would be much appreciated. I know I should geta beta readerbut with therandomness of my posts Ihave neverfelt it would befair toask someone to do it.

(Just to clarify, in my little world James is the oldest, Sirius is next, then Remus, then Peter. Both James and Sirius are sixteen by this chapter.)

Happy Monday, Sham.


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